Don't Let Me Down
by TazoClarity
Summary: Chuck and Blair are married and their usual scheming selves, until they lose something very precious to them, all for revenge. How will they cope and who will they turn to when they don't know if they can look to each other? AU after 2x12 C/B and C/Bart.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey, I don't have much to say, except this is a future fic with spoilers up to 2x12. Because I want Bart to be alive since the idiotic writers decided to ignore all the father/son emotional growth potential and kill him off (even though I thought Ed Westwick rocked that material). Still, he will eventually be a very itegral part of the story, so if you don't like him, then don't read any further :). Also, R/L fans will probably be disappointed, because Bart and Lily are still married and I state my reasons later in the story. Otherwise, this is a Chuck and Blair story with a slow build, but bear with me and it should all be fine. Please enjoy and review!

The final round. She had been trembling uncontrollably only a moment before, but the realization that this could quite possibly be the last of her young life brought an unearthly stillness. She was blindfolded, but she could feel the presence of the dark man behind her as he bent over, his mouth next to her ear. She bit back a muffled groan of dread.

"We're almost done here, Princess. Daddy has three hours. Three hours." The heat of his breath faded finally, but she cringed when he touched her tangled, dark curls. "It's a shame, you know." She heard his footsteps walk around her, and her eyes looked up blindly where she felt him stand. "But you're beautiful, much too beautiful to be alone forever. Think of it as a mercy," the villain said cruelly.

_Alone_. Her mind wandered to the one person who had been there for a time; the only person who had made her feel as if she had a fighting chance. They had taken him away. The subdued panic rose up again when she thought of all the terrible possibilities, but he was also too beautiful to be alone.

"_I need you to promise me something. Promise me that you'll live. Promise me that you'll live until you're ninety and you'll die a quiet, peaceful death. Out of this. Promise me."_

But she couldn't possibly keep it. It wasn't in her power to grant that particular wish. She felt the dark man's eyes on her as she let out a noise of momentary weakness, something halfway between a gasp and a sob. Because it didn't really matter. She didn't want to live in a world that would take him away.

She wanted to cry then, and she did. She let the tears fall down her dirty cheeks noiselessly, because he was impossibly in the room, and she could sense his phantom smile in the dark.

* * *

"Control yourself until we leave," the petite, brunette told her best friend. The other girl let out a half-suppressed squeal, linking arms with the brunette as they exited the halls of Constance. The rest of the school naturally parted a path for them as they passed. They were the reincarnation of two girls that had already passed these walls, and rightly so. Leila was tall and blond, famous for her gorgeous features and bubbly personality. Emilia, the more poised of the two, was shorter, with doe-eyes and chocolate curls.

They were the image of their mothers, with obvious mistakes. Leila's hair was a deeper gold color than Serena's flaxen locks, and her brilliant, green eyes were inherited directly from her father. Emilia's complexion wasn't quite as pale as Blair's and her jaw line was slightly more defined. They were inseparable. Emilia was the far more intense of the two with a love of social hierarchy, especially since she was comfortably at the top. Leila was the excitable and wild one, always being affectionately reined in by those that could help but love her. It was the way it was supposed to be. It was perfect.

They slid into the waiting limo together and sat as it pulled out, headed towards the exclusive, private school their siblings attended. Within three seconds, Leila had thrown herself onto her best friend, and Emilia got a mouthful of blond hair. She squealed again, this time unrestrained, as she pulled back to look at the other girl, who had cracked a small smile at Leila's enthusiasm.

"You're going to be—"

"I know."

"And as a sophomor—"

"I know."

"E! Please, be as happy for yourself as I am!" Leila whined, placing her head on Emilia's shoulder.

"I am," the darker girl laughingly protested, and it seemed for the first time, that she was. There was a glint in her eye, and her skin was a little flushed. "But I don't need the crown taken from me the moment I get it because I pitched a hysterical fit. It's called decorum, L."

Leila slumped back in the seat and sighed. "This is why I could care less about being queen. Who comes up with all those rules… and codes…?"

Emilia raised an eyebrow. "All that matters is who will be reinforcing those rules."

The blond laughed lightly for a moment and then there was just a beat of silence. Leila took the time to study her best friend, and took in the way her hands were clasped in her lap and her posture was just a bit more relaxed than normal. Her green eyes widened. "Em... were you... nervous?

Her dark counterpart said nothing, but rolled her eyes. "You were! You can't be serious?!" she gasped incredulously.

"What do you mean?" Emilia snapped. "I _had_ to get it this year. Anything less..."

"Would have been _less_ than what Aunt Blair had done." Leila finished. "But you had to know that it was a given. You're the daughter of Blair Waldorf and Chuck Bass, for God's sake! Poor Elise was probably scared of being struck down… or something."

"By the Constance legends of past? Nothing was set in stone," she smirked at the knowing look on Leila's face. "But yeah, I mean, they really didn't have any other worthy option." Both girls laughed then, in pure delight of the situation.

The limo halted, and Arthur strode around the sleek vehicle to pull the door open. Three children, all around the age of ten or eleven, climbed in. Conor Baizen grinned at the two older girls as he slid to one end, his twin Julia was close behind him. The Baizen twins were both slight in build, with identical, cobalt eyes. Their most marked difference was hair color; Julia's hair was the exact shade of her mother's while Conor's was a caramel brown.

Damon Bass was the last to enter. He smoothly slid next to Julia, gracing both his sister and Leila with his father's smirk in perfect form. The smirk wasn't the only similarity between him and the older Bass man. Damon's angular face mostly belonged to his father, but was offset by his mother's inherited wide, brown eyes. Those eyes, along with his short but unkempt hair, gave him an oddly innocent look that the Chuck could never have pulled off. It went a long way in keeping the mischievous eleven-year old out of trouble; or at least from getting caught.

"Sis," he greeted Emilia slyly, his voice sounding a little mature for his age. It wasn't more masculine, but something about the sound and the way he constructed his speech just seemed... older.

Emilia smirked at her little brother. "Damon." From the corner of her eye, she saw Leila roll her eyes at them; they must have been "acting like they were in on some joke that no one else was" again. Emilia didn't exactly know what she meant, but Leila hated it.

"So, was it today? Did they announce the Queen?!" Julia's eager face had Emilia snapping her head in the younger girl's direction.

"They don't _announce_ the Queen yet," she answered carefully.

"But they _do_ inform the new Queen of her appointment," Damon interjected. He was staring at Leila, who was barely suppressing a grin. "So tell us…"

Conor sneered at Damon. "You _would_ care who the Queen is, Bass." Damon turned his head slowly to eye Conor with disdain, before opening his mouth.

"I am," Emilia cut in quickly, hoping to keep the two boys from snapping at each other. Julia let out a squeal much like her sister and clapped her hands together, causing Leila and Emilia to laugh.

"I knew it, I knew it!"

Damon watched Julia with amusement before leaning back against the leather seat and slipping his hands into his pockets. "So it stays in the family. Mom will be pleased."

"Because it was so going to happen! It just makes sense, with Aunt Blair and Uncle Chuck, it was set! What are you going to do first?!" The exclamations tumbled from Julia's lips one after the other.

Conor frowned at his twin. "Get a grip, Jules."

She spared him a look. "What do you know about becoming Constance Queen?"

"Thankfully, nothing." He looked at Emilia. "…congratulations."

Leila snorted at the veiled sarcasm that her brother was so famous for. "Nice, Conor."

"It's not his fault. How can he understand when he was never meant to rule anything?" Damon put in snidely. Conor glared at him. The two of them had carried a strong dislike for each other ever since they could walk and talk (which, for Damon, occurred admittedly earlier). The animosity was only heightened since they were forced to spend considerable amounts of time in each other's presence, for their mothers' sakes. Most rides to and from school consisted of an argument between them, so Conor was more than ready with a shot of his own.

"Yes, because you'll have to work for it. You won't be inheriting your Daddy's corporation or anything."

"Do I detect jealousy, Baizen? Could that be because—"

"Don't Damon!" Emilia warned him firmly. Her younger brother was dangerously close to crossing a personal line that even she couldn't support him breaking. Conor's face had grown red with contained anger, but Leila shook her head sympathetically to keep him from escalating it.

The car went very silent before Julia, who was slightly paler, looked out the window as the limo came to a stop. "Here we are," she said softly. She smiled at Damon and congratulated Emilia once again before climbing over her brother and out of the car. Leila sighed before hugging her friend. "I'll call you, E," she promised. She then grabbed her brother's arm and pulled him out of the limo after her.

When the Bass siblings were alone, Emilia gave her brother a disapproving look. "Was that really necessary?"

Damon's face was stone. "You can never go too far with a Baizen."

"That's the problem! This has nothing to do with Conor, and everything to do with Daddy's hatred for Carter. I bet you couldn't name a single good reason for hating Conor for himself."

"I could," Damon said confidently, but offered no evidence.

Emilia tilted her head to one side. "What about Julia?"

"What about her?"

"She's a Baizen."

Damon shook his head. "Barely by blood, she's more a Van der Woodsen- a Rhodes, even. And I would never…" he trailed off, unsure of how to finish.

"And—"

"And Leila isn't a Baizen at all, Em," Damon answered, sensing where his sister was headed. "So what if that's why I hate him? It's just as good a reason as any. His loyalty to his father is just wrong!"

"Like you wouldn't do the same."

"Difference is, Dad would never do that to us, or to Mom."

Emilia shrugged. "So you got the better father…"

"I recognize worthlessness when I see it. That's the difference." Damon said quietly. He was always so intense, that even now, it would sometimes catch Emilia off guard.

His older sister shook her head affectionately. "You are too old. Try acting like your eleven, Dam."

He smirked. "Is that a direct order from the Queen Bee?"

"Of course." She could tell that he was intent on changing the subject, and so she let him.

"Speaking of which, you must be completely ecstatic."

She waved a hand nonchalantly. "I can't say that I didn't see it coming." The limo stopped and they left it to head up to their penthouse.

Damon studied his sister with his penetrating look, something every single member of their family shared. "Maybe, but you were still a little worried," he observed.

As they got into the elevator, Emilia rolled her eyes. "Only because I didn't want Mom to show me up."

"Like I said before, Mom is going to be happy!"

"I know! I just... " The elevator dinged it's arrival to the top floor, and the doors opened to free them. They walked away from the entrance hall and into the sitting room. They were unsurprised to find their mother sitting in front of the coffee table, looking at the papers scattered all around her. She would sometimes bring her work home, so she could be there when they got out of school.

Blair Waldorf-Bass had inherited the Manhattan branch of her mother's design company a few years after school and carried a law degree from Columbia for good measure. With the ample addition of Chuck's billions as second-man to his father at Bass Industries, the Waldorf-Basses were the unspoken reigning couple of the Upper East Side. They weren't saints by any standard (even if Blair liked to pretend occasionally) but if someone had something on them, chances were that they knew all of the skeletons in their closet, so to speak. To face them separately was horrendously foolish, but the combination was downright lethal to anyone who crossed their collective path.

Blair looked up as her two children entered and at the sight of them, her face softened. "Hello, Mother," Emilia said, smiling. She sat down across from her, slipping her school bag from her shoulder.

Damon crossed the room and kissed his mother on the cheek. "Hey, mom." Then, without preamble, he turned to go up the staircase. Blair's hand slipped from her son's arm when he stalked off abruptly and she looked after him.

"And where are you going?" she said with a raised eyebrow. Damon looked back at her and shrugged.

"Emilia has something to tell you," he explained. "And it's something that I don't find particularly exciting." Without waiting for any reply, he headed up the stairs and Blair sighed and then her eyes found her daughter's.

"Well... what is it?" Emilia shifted on the couch for a minute as Blair watched her expectantly. Finally, she looked up, trying hard to compose her face into something much less excitable.

"Elise made her decision... regarding who would succeed her next year..." she paused and searched her mother's face. Blair was politely waiting for her to say the rest, just in case she was wrong, but Emilia could see the grin threatening to blossom on her mother's face.

Finally, Blair raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And... I'm it. I'll be the Queen of Constance officially next year!" she exclaimed breathlessly. Blair's face changed to one of pure delight and they both squealed. Emilia hopped over to the couch that her mother was reclining on, and Blair wrapped her daughter into a hug.

"Oh, darling, I'm so proud of you!" But then she suddenly pulled back and looked into her face. "This is what you want, right?"

"Of course, Mother," Emilia couldn't keep the smile off her face. "Why would you think—"

"I didn't," Blair cut in. "I just want you to be happy," she said softly as she touched a strand of her daughter's hair.

Emilia couldn't resist but to hug her mother again. "I am happy, Mom." She pulled back. "And don't tell me that it wouldn't drive you crazy if I didn't want to be Queen."

Blair laughed and smirked at her young equivalent. "I'll just say that you are an utterly perfect daughter for me, Emilia Evelyn Bass."

Emilia rolled her eyes affectionately and stood. "I have homework to do. I'll be down for dinner."

Blair nodded and Emilia snatched up her bag again and turned towards the stairs that her brother had ascended a few minutes ago. "Oh, and darling? Please decide on what dress you would like for the gala, I can't have both of them sitting out forever."

The gala tomorrow night to honor her grandfather. She'd forgotten all about that. "I'll decide tonight."

"And is Leila looking for something?" Emilia turned to see her mother smirking and she mirrored the expression.

"You know Leila. Everything is at the last minute."

Blair nodded. "Just give me an answer by tonight so I know to leave the other one."

"I will." She traced the banister thoughtfully. "When will Daddy be home?"

"He _claims_ he'll be home early, around six." Blair smirked. "But if you want to share the news, I suggest you call him at the office."

Emilia bit her lip. "Do you think he'll care... about that?" Blair felt an odd twinge, as the gesture reminded her so much of herself, but especially the uncertainty in her daughter's voice. Emilia wasn't nearly as insecure as she had once been; Blair had sworn that her children would never face the same problems that had once marred her childhood. Still, she always worried that somehow she wouldn't be able to protect her daughter from feeling as if she wasn't good enough or important enough, however irrational she was being.

"I'd hazard a guess that anything you do is of great interest to him," she smiled. It was true. Chuck had adored their daughter from the moment he had looked into her big, brown eyes as she wailed, demanding his attention. "Your father _loves_ his queens."

Emilia laughed. "I'll call him now."

* * *

"This is a good preliminary proposal, Charles," Bart said, dropping said proposal onto his son's desk.

Chuck looked up at the faint praise, omitting the fact that this was the final version of the proposal. He couldn't complain, because ever since he could remember, Bart had had a gross aversion to giving compliments. Chuck would take what he could get.

"Thank you, Father." He stood from his chair, but remained behind the desk. "I assume you didn't come in here just to tell me that. What's the problem?"

Bart cut immediately to the chase. "I need you in Tokyo for a week or two to settle that deal. They're stalling and I think it's about time we give them a firm hand in the right direction."

"When is this supposed to get taken care of?" Chuck said immediately.

"By the end of the month," Bart's face was inscrutable as always. "Then I'm to assume that you're accepting?"

Chuck smirked. "Of course." He would take anything his father gave him. The natural aptitude that Chuck possessed for business was undeniable and no doubt inherited from Bart himself. He enjoyed when it was on display for the whole world to see, primarily his father (and Blair, she had a tendency to get all hot and bothered when he flexed his muscles as a corporate powerhouse).

"I'll expect—" A ringing phone cut through Bart's voice. Bart glared at the phone. "Doesn't your secretary screen your calls?"

For the smallest moment, Chuck felt all of sixteen again admitting his latest misdemeanor. As much as Chuck knew he would never regret being a family man, Bart could make what many people thought were his most noble qualities, seem childish. "It's my personal extension, for Blair and the kids," he explained. He pressed the button for speaker while Bart watched.

"Hello?"

"Daddy?"

Even Big Bart Bass' presence couldn't keep the smile from Chuck's face at the sound of his daughter's voice. "Hey Princess, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

There was a momentary pause and Chuck kept his eyes trained to the speaker, not wanting to look at his dad. Finally, Emilia's voice came through the silence. "Actually not Princess, it's Queen now."

She said it with satisfaction and glee, sounding so incredibly like her mother. "Queen? And what marks this occasion?"

"I'm the new Queen Bee of Constance." This made Chuck smirk. He knew what the crown meant to the Constance Billiard girls... and the boys of St. Jude's. It was simply hereditary; Basses thrived on power. Chuck looked up to see his father raise his eyebrows, but the gesture was one of amusement.

"Not surprised are you? The weight your name carries coupled with your considerable natural talent..."

"Oh, of course," said the answering voice cockily. "How could I have lived it down if Mom had begun her reign before me?"

"I take it she's pleased?"

Emilia laughed. "What do you think?" She didn't wait for the answer. "When are you coming home?"

"I just told your mother what time I'd be back tonight."

"She thought you may have been lying."

He shook his head and saw out of the corner of his eye that the corners of Bart's lips had turned up ever so slightly. "Tell her I'm wounded. I'll be home by six."

"Alright. I have to go and do homework. Love you."

"Love you too, sweetheart." There was a distinct click and the line went dead. Chuck stared down at it for another few seconds, feeling awkward at what his father had just heard. It wasn't that Bart hadn't seen him interact with his children, but he felt that these displays were far out of Bart's element.

His father cleared his throat loudly. "She's quite a girl."

Chuck smiled. Bart had a heavily concealed soft-spot for his granddaughter. It made the ice cold business man seem almost human to see those little quirks of the mouth and pleasantries bordering on affectionate.

"I know."

After a beat, Bart shifted rather uncomfortably and changed tacks. "So, then I'll arrange for your trip to Tokyo."

Chuck nodded, everything returning to business.

"Charles, I'm trusting you to make this deal run smoothly."

"Dad, you don't have a reason not to trust me." In Chuck's time at Bass Industries, he had closed two of the biggest deals made in the history of BI. Bart couldn't refute that.

The older man nodded. "Well then, I'll expect no less this time. I'll see you at the gala tomorrow night?"

"Of course," Chuck said indifferently. Bart cast one last disparaging glance at Chuck's personal extension and then briskly left Chuck's office, leaving his son shaking his head, like he did after many encounters with the Head-Bass-In-Charge.

* * *

Leila was sprawled across her bed with her laptop propped across her lap when she heard a soft knock at her door. Her mother was on the threshold, leaning against the door.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure," Leila answered lightly, putting the laptop aside as her mother came over and sat on the edge of the bed.

Leila always marveled at her mother's agelessness. No woman had any right to look as young and beautiful after sixteen years of children and marriage as Serena van der Woodsen did. Sometimes, Leila would worry that she wasn't beautiful enough to be the woman's daughter, and what beauty that she had would wither fast. But these thoughts were merely passing worries; Leila had every ounce of Serena's carefree spirit inside her.

"You didn't talk to me at all when you came in, is something wrong, baby?"

Leila smiled at her mom and shook her head. "Nothing's wrong, but I feel like I should be asking you that question. You look upset."

Serena glanced toward the door before answering. "Well, it's just that I saw Conor when he got home with you and I know something wasn't right. And he's been quiet all afternoon." As Serena went on, she saw her eldest daughter look away guiltily. "I know you know something about it. Was it school?"

"No."

"Did something happen on the way home?"

Leila shrugged with annoyance. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Just Conor and Damon going at it, like usual."

Her mother didn't look convinced. "I mean, Damon may have said something a little harsh. But they were both..." she paused and licked her lips. "It was about Carter."

At the name of her ex-husband, Serena looked up at the ceiling and shook her head. "What happened?" she groaned.

"Damon didn't manage to get it out, but he implied that Conor was jealous that Carter didn't care about him like Uncle Chuck cares. Emilia stopped him before he could say it."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?! Was Jules upset about this? She didn't look like—"

"Mom!" Leila cut her off before she could get any more worked up. "You know how Julia is about Carter, but Conor..." Leila looked at her mother sadly. "It killed him when his dad left, they were so close. It's driving him crazy."

Serena sighed and laid down across the bed next to her daughter. "I know, honey. I can see how much it hurt him, but he won't talk to me or anybody else. I've tried, but at this point, I can't do anything about it."

Leila watched her mother sympathetically. "I don't think anyone can do anything. Hopefully, he'll get over it after a while." It wasn't much, but it was the best that she could do for her. Honestly, Leila doubted that Conor would ever overcome Carter abandoning him but she didn't have the heart to say that.

Serena sighed. "So how was school?"

Happy about the change of subject, Leila smiled slyly at her mom. "Guess who is almost officially the new Constance Queen?"

A genuine smile appeared on Serena's face. "Julia's only been raving about it for the past three hours! I think I've allowed her to spend too much time with Blair."

Leila giggled. "Probably. I think she was more excited than Emilia, even."

Serena tilted her head to one side thoughtfully. "Well, Em is very contained in front of people, like Blair used to be."

Contained was one, kinder way to put it. Leila nodded vigorously, eager to complain. "I know!" she whined. "It's always a show! She never just lets loose and feels…" Leila trailed off, looking for the right word. "I don't know, but if she would just let—"

Serena nodded. "You don't think I understand _exactly_ what you're talking about?! It bothered me so much when we were younger," she glanced sideways at her daughter. "But someday, Emilia will meet someone that will do that for her, let her be free."

Leila raised her eyebrows. "Ew."

"What?"

"You were talking about Uncle Chuck and how Aunt Blair danced for him at Victrola."

Serena looked mildly surprised. "How do you know about that? I _know_ Blair would never tell Emilia about that."

"Yeah, but Uncle Chuck hints at it sometimes when he wants to get Aunt Blair angry." She shrugged. "It wasn't too hard to put the pieces together, once we got our hands on old Gossip Girl posts. _All_ the pieces."

Serena laughed. "Even the limo?"

"Even the limo." They exchanged looks of disgust and Leila dropped her head onto her mother's shoulder. "So please don't tell me that my best friend will be letting go like _that_ in the near future."

Serena grinned and kissed her daughter's head. "If Chuck has anything to say about it, nothing like that will ever happen, let alone in the near future." She paused. "Speaking of over-protective fathers, your dad is coming back from his trip tomorrow and he'll be at the gala tomorrow night."

Leila perked up. "Really?"

Serena nodded. "Yup, and he said to tell you to call him if you have a spare minute and that he loves you."

The day suddenly brightened even more, if that were possible. Leila loved that her father never forgot about her, even though he was constantly busy. Being a senator during election year was time-consuming, but he always seemed to make time for his daughter.

"I'll call him."

"Good." Serena rose from the bed. "It's getting late, so you should turn in pretty soon."

Leila rolled her eyes, but nodded dutifully. Serena turned at the doorway and smiled softly. "I love you, baby."

"Love you too, Mom."

When her mother had gone, Leila turned her attention back to her laptop. She fooled around, looking through the usual gossip sites when she found a familiar name. The link was enough to send her into a fit of excitement. It wasn't three seconds before she dialed into her phone.

"E? You won't believe this!"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Forgot this before, but don't own. Except for the kids, I guess.

A/N: Like I said, this is a Chuck and Blair story that builds slowly with a lot of ensemble input. Please read and review :)

It was 7:15 on Saturday when Chuck Bass woke up to the sound of his wife moving around in their insanely large closet (not so insane if one took into account their mutual adoration for clothing). "Blair," he moaned, shielding his eyes from the sunlight streaming into their bedroom. When she didn't reply, he summoned more force. "Waldorf!"

Through slitted eyes, he saw Blair poke her head out and smirk at him. "You're off by several years, Bass. Remember?" She lifted a finger, displaying both her engagement ring and wedding band. He groaned as the diamond caught the light and glared into his eyes.

"How could I not?" he mumbled, then raised his voice for her benefit. "Get your adorable little ass back into bed! It's too damn early for this."

"For what?" she asked innocently.

"For anything that involves keeping your eyes open and movement of any kind."

"I'm re-evaluating my dress choice for the gala. And I beg to differ. I didn't hear you saying about early morning activity _last_ week when I was rudely awakened at dawn for your selfish libido," she said mockingly.

He was alert enough to smirk obnoxiously. "Excuse me for thinking that you wouldn't mind giving me something to tide me over until I got back from Los Angeles. And I was hardly selfish, darling, as I also didn't hear your complaints last week."

Blair raised an eyebrow and moved towards the bed. "I wasn't complaining, merely stating that early rising is fine as long as you're the one calling the shots, hypocrite. And sex," she said, idly tracing his jawline, "is one thing that I don't plan on complaining about."

She barely finished her sentence when he reached across the bed and pulled her down on top of him by her waist. She giggled as he lifted his head to kiss her neck. "I thought you were tired," she teased.

He buried his face in her chest. "I find it's best to keep my eyes wide open when you're around, sweetheart. I wouldn't want to end up with a knife in my back."

He gasped from pain when she grasped the hair on the top of his head and pulled. She was glaring at him, but he didn't suppress his smirk. "Don't press your luck, Bass."

When she released him, he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her into a searing kiss that left both of them breathless. "You know I love your inner bitch, Blair." He nipped her lip. "I love every part of you."

He was holding her firmly against him and she grinned against his lips. "Show me," she breathed, her tone demanding. Eager to obey that particular order, he flipped on top of her and did just that.

* * *

Emilia picked at her breakfast in silence, not noticing that her parents both came down late and slightly rumpled. Damon watched her speculatively, but didn't inquire as to why she was so quiet. Finally, Blair looked up from her tea to see her daughter pushing a piece of melon around her plate.

"Emilia," she said softly. The fork stopped mid-motion. "Aren't you hungry?"

At her mother's words, she pushed the plate away and crossed her arms. "I'm just a little distracted," she confessed evasively. Chuck looked up from the morning paper to frown at his daughter.

"You need to eat. There isn't anything on that plate as it is."

"I'm _fine_, Daddy," Emilia answered pointedly. "I just have a lot on my mind."

Damon smirked. "Queen for one day and already dissatisfied. _And_ it's the weekend."

"Damon, please." His mother snapped. The boy obediently closed his mouth and sat back in his seat, still smirking.

"It isn't a big deal!" She was getting agitated. "I'm just thinking about the gala."

"Yes, and did you talk to Leila about that dress?" Blair asked.

"She said to keep it for her and thanks you." Emilia was more than relieved that the conversation was changing direction.

"Now that you mention it, when is Nathaniel returning to the city?"

Emilia was about to answer, but Blair got there first. "Serena told me that he called to say he would be at the gala."

"Uncle Nate is back?"

Blair glanced at her son. "Yes."

"Good." Damon's eyes were glinting thoughtfully. "You know, _he_ should marry Aunt Serena, not that—"

"Kindly keep that tongue of yours in check, Damon." His mother interrupted carefully.

"But why?" he looked bored with the suggestion. "It makes sense. And I doubt that Uncle Nate would haul out at the first—"

"That's enough! It is your Aunt Serena's life, and she will live it as she sees fit," Blair pronounced.

"Sometimes people just need a _push_ in the right direction. Isn't that what you always say, Mom?" He smiled sweetly for her, every bit his parents' son.

Blair shook her head and turned to Chuck, who had a wide smirk plastered on his face. "Will you deal with this?"

Emilia glanced up from her untouched plate. "Would you rather he adopted Dad's catchphrase? 'Some people just need to be taken care of'?"

Chuck smirked at his daughter, obviously pleased. "Exactly. And far be it from me to contradict the teachings of his mother."

Blair sneered. "So says the man who turned Serena into Mr. Hyde senior year so that a certain someone would ask for his assistance in taking her down. And, of course, all the while bloated with ulterior motives." In exasperation, she turned to her son. "Do not meddle in your Aunt's life, and that's an order. Carter is none of your concern, thankfully. Leave it in the past and let the adults worry about things like this."

Damon nodded. "Well if you and Dad are going to work bringing them together, then just make sure it's done right."

"You forget who you're talking to, Son," Chuck said smartly. "We don't make mistakes."

Blair reached under the table and pinched Chuck's leg with her manicured nails, hard. She smiled at his sharp intake of breath. "Nor will we be meddling. And Damon, please do not provoke Conor tonight. I'd rather you didn't make a scene."

The boy blanched at the accusation. "Damon Bass does not make _scenes_," he said firmly.

"No," Blair said grimly, "but he causes them. And I don't want to see or hear any of it."

"May I be excused?" Emilia said suddenly. All three turned to look at her before Blair sighed.

"You may." She immediately pushed back her chair and left the kitchen. Chuck looked after her in slight concern.

"She didn't eat anything, Blair."

Blair waved it off. "She's fine. If it becomes a problem, we will handle it, whatever is bothering her. You know as well as I do that it won't be forced out of her."

Damon turned to his father eagerly. "Why don't you tell your PI to find out the problem? I'm sure he could figure it out. Or you could just give me the number of—"

"You are not getting your own PI," Blair said sternly.

"Mom!" He looked quite put-out. "I need one!"

"You absolutely do not need one!" She looked to Chuck for assistance and he complied.

"Your mother's right, Dam. I didn't have one until I was sixteen."

Blair rolled his eyes. "And even that was far too early!"

Damon looked beseechingly at Blair, giving her his wide-eyed look of sorrow. "Please, Mom."

"That puppy dog face was mine first, Damon. Maybe it will work in your favor with other people, but this isn't going to help your case."

He scowled and pushed away from the table as well. "Fine. I'll be in my room."

Blair looked after her young son as he stalked out of the dining room, rubbing her temples. Even his walk was Chuck-like. "I should have known that procreating with you was a dangerous business. He gets to be more like you every day."

"And you love him for it."

Blair shook her head. "No, I love him because he's him. It's the scheming and the desperately wanting a private investigator that bothers me."

Chuck pushed a strand of hair off her face. "I don't think you give yourself nearly enough credit where he's concerned. He did quote you at the table, after all."

"And the hatred of all things Baizen?"

For what might have been the first time this morning, Chuck actually looked serious. "He isn't just parroting me, Blair. You know I would never take out my distaste for Carter out on his son. And they were never outright intolerable of each other until Carter was gone. He's angry that Conor was justifying Carter's leaving."

"What was Conor supposed to do?" Blair asked softly. "He loves his father."

"I know that. But Damon thinks it's an unforgivable affront to Serena and Julia, and he's right." Chuck's jaw clenched. "If I ever get my hands on that bastard..."

Blair put a hand on Chuck's arm. "This may be the one time I would advise you to let it go. There's no reason to bring Carter back into our lives if he looks like he may be gone for good."

Chuck took a sip of his coffee. "He's never gone for good."

* * *

"When are you coming over for the dress?"

Emilia heard Leila sigh over the phone. "Did you not hear me?"

"Of course I heard you, I just chose not to answer. Are you coming by?"

"E. He's going to be at the gala... tonight."

"If you're talking about the Alton brothers, there are two of them."

"And you know which one I mean."

Emilia was so aggravated that she stood from her bed and began pacing the room. "Leila, whatever you have concocted in your head about Chris and I, it's not going to happen. So occupy your time with something else."

"You_ went_ to Scotland!"

"For the summer!"

"And you saw him! You told me this last night!" Yes, she did. Why did she do that?

"_E! You won't believe this!" _

_"Won't believe what?" she replied unenthusiastically. "Look, I have to ask you something—"_

_"First, let me give you the latest." Emilia rolled her eyes. Leila was the biggest gossip at Constance, something that wasn't odd, considering her genes. But much to Emilia's chagrin, Leila never used the information to her advantage, like one was supposed to. "It's the Alton brothers, they're back on the Upper East Side for good, apparently. It says here that their father even confirmed it and they'll all be attending the gala tomorrow night." When Emilia was deathly silent, Leila sounded tentative. "You remember them, right?"_

_"Christopher and Finn, went to school with us until the seventh grade. Their father was the biggest lawyer on the East Coast. They left when Daddy shipped them off to that boarding school in Scotland," the brunette recited mockingly. "They both have—"_

_"I know, I know, just making sure that you weren't going to play dumb."_

_"Whatever would I do that for?" Emilia asked dangerously._

_Leila was silent for a few beats and Emilia knew she was wondering whether to acknowledge the big pink elephant in the room. "I remember how you were when Chris left, Em. I was there when you shut yourself up in your room for days."_

_Emilia was speechless for a long time. "That wasn't what happened," the brunette finally snapped._

_"Just because you say that I'm exaggerating doesn't mean that I am." Leila answered patiently. "For whatever reason, you genuinely cared about him back then."_

_"Please, I was thirteen."_

_Leila made a noise of disbelief. "Get real, E. I knew you would do this. Why can't you just admit that it upset you? Anyway, it's been three years."_

_She snorted in an unladylike way that would have appalled her mother. Three years. It hadn't been three years, but how would Leila know that? "I haven't held a grudge, just don't expect me to talk to him."_

"_Yeah, you're right, that isn't holding a grudge," Leila snarked._

"_I think you're the one that won't let go of this, L," Emilia said with the pretense of lightness._

_Her friend wouldn't be put off. "I just think that you should move on. He was your friend, once upon a time, and maybe he has a good excuse for leaving without good-bye."_

"_He doesn't," Emilia answered quickly, he voice suddenly soft._

"_How do you know?"_

"_I just do."_

_"Come on, Em."_

_"Come on what? Maybe I'm not being petty about this. Did you ever stop to think about that? Maybe I have my reasons for hating him!" she bit out vehemently. _

_She was remembering that boy that obtained his own motorcycle at the age of twelve, and sped it around the Alton's Hamptons estate because he couldn't take it anywhere else legally. The boy that stood off the balcony of the third story window and just waited there. She once found him up there during a party and asked him why. She hadn't even startled him. He told her that he wanted to stand there until his legs gave out. He wanted to see whether he would fall backwards onto the cool stone, no worse for wear, or forwards, tumbling to his death. She told him he was crazy, suicidal and stupid; and he almost smiled. He said that he could never stand on the balcony that long, someone would always come find him first. She was stupid for believing him. She would always remember that night because he was so young, too young to be saying that. And it always struck her the way he said it, there was no regret or relief, but just simple, unadulterated fact._

_Leila was speechless for one, two, three, four... "Is there something you didn't tell me? Did something happen between you and—"_

_"Don't, L." Emilia said ruefully._

_"No, just—just tell me! What happened? Was it before he left?"_

_"No! Look…" Emilia sat back down on her bed and took a breath. "I… last summer… I went to see him… and Finn, of course."_

_"Of course," Leila repeated, with the smallest hint of impatience._

_"I just wanted to ask him why the hell," her voice petered out, "he just left without… saying anything."_

_"And?"_

_"And... when I got there, we... we just acted like we were together or something. Like dating. He didn't ask me why I came and I wanted to be so angry, but... I just couldn't." She couldn't explain it to her best friend. She couldn't explain it to anyone. Emilia could plainly see that he was hiding something, that there was more to the story. She saw the regret in his eyes when he looked at her. But he would never apologize. Strangely, for once in her life, she didn't need it; it was enough to know that he was sorry._

_"It was after I broke up with Ethan. I don't even know what I was thinking the whole time, it was just nice to... relax and as long as I acted like it would go on forever, it was great," she said brightly. "But, you know that couldn't last."_

_"What happened when you had to go?"_

_Emilia sighed. "Daddy and Mother had been calling me. They said that I had to come back because I had stayed an extra week anyway. Dorota was with me, you remember? I still don't know for sure if she had any idea where I had been going almost every day, but she never said anything. Anyway, I told Chris I had to go back and he nodded and told me he would miss me. That was it."_

_"That's it?"_

_"Yes."_

_"...it's not so bad."_

_Emilia couldn't stop a bitter smile. She didn't want to think of the last time she saw him, the last time he shrugged her off like a passing thought. "I think we both think it's awful."_

_Leila breathed a laugh. "You know, I never got it... why he was so... careful with you. I didn't understand why you put up with him. I mean, he was crazy; everyone knew it." Leila paused in thought. "Why not Finn?"_

_"I didn't choose either one. We were kids, Leila," Emilia reminded her quietly. "It didn't mean much back then, but... I didn't expect all of that to happen, okay? Last year was what... I just never understood what was happening, and I couldn't help but wonder if that was what he wanted. It didn't make sense and he wouldn't explain." Her voice trembled slightly, and she felt incredibly foolish. She was sixteen, for God's sake! But dramatics were in her blood..._

_"I'm sorry. I didn't know," Leila said softly. "But if that's what happened, then you need to talk to him."_

_"No," Emilia said simply._

_"E—"_

_"Look, I have to go. I'll call you in the morning." Before Leila could answer, she heard the click of the line. Typical._

It was temporary insanity. Emilia stopped and looked across the hallway to Damon's closed door. He would definitely hear her if she didn't keep her voice down. "He was my friend. And you're acting like I didn't see Finn either."

"After what you told me, don't think you can just backtrack," she paused. "And I meant what I said last night. He always had this... weird fascination with you, even back then."

"And how would you know about now? You haven't seen him since the seventh-grade."

"I think now I know enough. Wouldn't you say?" Emilia could hear the irritation in her best friend's voice, though she was trying to say it gently. Her eyes were fixated on the white ceiling above her, as a nervous feeling hit the pit of her stomach. Leila was right. What would she do? If they were returning for good, like she said, then it didn't matter if she ignored him at the gala. Eventually, they would have to speak to each other.

"I can handle this myself, alright? Just stop pushing it."

"E—"

"Please," Emilia interrupted.

Leila heaved a groan. "Fine, but don't pretend this doesn't exist, E. It will snowball if you do."

"Noted, L. Now are you coming over? We can get ready for the gala together." The underlying message was clear: We are done talking about this.

After a momentary pause, Leila surrendered. "Yeah, I'll be over at 3."

* * *

Lily glanced at her reflection as she picked her jewelry for the night. She needed to be meticulous, as usual. Her husband was the guest of honor... her husband usually was the guest of honor, and when he wasn't, everyone still looked to him as something to be in awe of. He was the richest self-made man in the world, surpassing men like Trump. No matter where they were, they would be watched; _she_ would be watched by the virtue of standing next to him.

Being Lily van der Woodsen was something that struck a chord in people, but being Lily Bass was even more eye-catching. But that wasn't why she was here, no matter what anyone said, even if Bart himself didn't know. The truth was that she was surprisingly happy. At least happier than she thought she would be when she made the decision.

She did think of him from time to time—Rufus. She couldn't pretend that he hadn't been there and left a permanent mark. She didn't try to forget, she knew it was pointless; she _had_ loved him. But there were greater things; that's what she had realized.

The accident was what changed everything. She couldn't forget that night because it had irrevocably changed her. The call, the waiting, the kids... that's what had really done it. It was then that she realized how blind she had been to her children: Eric and the look on his face while they sat in the ER. He had been angry when Bart had been exposed for keeping files on all of them, but he had grown used to the idea of having a family, and they were a family. Her young son's face was haunted as he slumped against a chair in the waiting room. This was the most stability she had ever offered him, and here it was, being ripped apart before their very eyes.

Charles was sitting very still, back ramrod straight and eyes never wavering from their dead stare forward. Blair was sitting next to him, but was talking to Serena in hushed voices. Lily wasn't fooled. She had suspected even then (and knew for certain now) that Blair had demanded to come to the hospital for Chuck and only Chuck. But she seemed to know to give him space. He wasn't speaking to anyone, but every time someone came through the doors, his eyes would fly to them in trepidation. In the course of two hours, he had grown deathly pale and his eyes had sunken in to his face. And when Lily looked at him, the only thought she had was imagining how awful he would look if Bart actually...

It filled her with pain to see her dark young stepson, who she really didn't know, suffer this. She felt for him almost as intensely as she felt for her biological children, and the sensation shocked her. He looked so lost that she wanted to take him in her arms like a child. But he wouldn't accept it, especially not now, when she had been… selfishly spending time with another man. She hadn't given thought to her children, or the boy she had come to see as one of her own.

Bart had adopted her children and she couldn't deny that he had made effort. And if he saw this through… well, she had to at least talk. She was willing if he was. She owed her children that at least. If there was one thing that Lily was beginning to understand, it was that she fell in love as easily as she fell out of it. And was it worth uprooting her two kids and having them follow her into perhaps another tryst that would end in disaster?

There was only one problem: being able to look Rufus in the eye, with the knowledge that she loved him, and telling him that it wasn't to be. She would never give them that chance. But she had to think rationally, because there was always a man and a forbidden love, but had there ever been a family?

Bart tore her out of her reverie when he appeared in the doorway of their bedroom. "Lily, you look beautiful." There was a smile in his voice. It was nice. There was no head-over-heels feeling and he didn't make her heart pound, but he made her comfortable. She genuinely cared for him and didn't doubt that he cared for her. That day he woke up in the hospital, they confessed that those more intense feelings had long died with other people (or at least moved out of reach). They wanted the same thing, and united in their goal, they found something good.

She heard him move closer and put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you ready?"

She turned to him and kissed him on the cheek. "Yes, I am."

* * *

Damon rolled his eyes as he watched his mother move from one side of the room to the other, ordering Dorota to hand her those earrings or that perfume, claiming that the other scent was entirely inappropriate… whatever that meant. He was already dressed in his evening attire. Now, he was leaning against the door of his parents' bedroom, tie undone and hands in his pockets, waiting for Blair to notice him. She finally did, and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at his appearance.

"How long have you been standing there?"

He shrugged. "Long enough to be feeling sorry for Dorota."

Blair smirked. "Dorota, I can finish myself. You can go."

Dorota nodded, but on her way out hissed to Damon, "You be nice to your mama, Mr. Damon."

Damon inclined his head generously. "Always." When Dorota had gone, Damon looked around with really no objective in mind. "Where's Dad?"

"He's taking a call. I wanted to be sure that you were ready to go, and I see that you've gotten ready."

The boy frowned. "I'm always ready on time, Mom. It's Emilia who has that problem." He sensed that there was something else going on, as he happened to be rather intuitive.

"That you are." She studied him further. "With one glaring exception." Her hands immediately fell to his tie, knotting it expertly. He sighed, but allowed her to finish. When she did, she moved to touch his hair and he immediately backed away. "Not the hair, Mom."

She rolled her eyes. "Sometimes you are too much like your father." Then she smiled in the way that she had been fighting not to and touched his cheek. "You look so handsome."

He really hated when she got like this, but he tried to put up with it because he knew that his mother was famous for getting... emotional. Still, he had to draw the line somewhere. "Please, Mom," he whined, gently swiping her hand away from his face. "Just tell me what you wanted."

Immediately, Blair was all business as she considered him intently, running a hand down her dress. "I wanted to talk to you about Conor."

At the name, Damon's reaction was repellent, but Blair ignored him. "I was serious this morning. Do not goad him at the gala."

"I already said—"

"I remember what you said. The question is whether I should take your word for any worth, Damon. You've been known to make promises you don't keep."

"I never _promised_ anything," he grumbled.

"Well I'm asking you to promise now." She looked at him tenderly. "Sweetheart, it's not his fault. He's only doing what he can."

"Defending his unreliable, gambling father isn't the only thing he can do," Damon said coldly. "He could try being there for the family he still has, the ones that were abandoned by his sainted dad."

Blair tilted her head to the side, slightly. "Julia and Serena were not the only ones abandoned. Conor was left just as easily, just as thoughtlessly."

"Then I don't get why—"

"He's confused! And he's just as much your Aunt's son as he is Carter's." Damon lowered his head to glare at the carpet, and Blair knew it was a clear sign that he didn't care what his mother said. "I will never tell you that you have to like him or enjoy his company, but I expect you to treat him civilly. Am I understood?"

Damon hesitated and kept his eyes trained to the floor until Blair huffed and tilted his chin up to look at her. Behind him, she saw Chuck appear at the door, where he stopped to watch the exchange. "Damon."

He finally met her gaze and smirked familiarly. "Of course, Mom." He took a step back and touched the tie at his throat. "So if that's all, then I'll just be downstairs waiting." Blair nodded and he turned to go, only stopping when his father ruffled his hair as he went by.

"Dad! Come on, not the hair!" Chuck chuckled as he closed the door behind his son. "What did he do this time?"

"Nothing, actually... that I know of. I just wanted to talk to him again about his behavior concerning Conor."

"Ahhh... he said he wouldn't cause any trouble."

"And I don't believe him anymore than you do," she retorted. Her expression was a touch mournful when her eyes met his. "If he just concentrated his attentions on someone more deserving... do you know if Georgina Sparks has a child anywhere that we don't know about?"

Chuck set his coat neatly on the bed as he sat next to her. "I think it's better that she stay wherever she is, with whatever child she may have spawned with some unfortunate soul."

Blair looked unconvinced; this was something he would know. "Please. Where is she, Chuck?"

"Currently? She's in Germany, doing what, I'm not certain, but I'm having my man check that out as we speak. One can never be too careful. And she has not had any children to my knowledge."

"So no Armageddon in the next few years?" She smiled as Chuck leaned in to kiss her.

"Some say that about us, you know," he murmured over her lips.

"As for that, we should expect jealousy from those that wish they were so mentally superior." Chuck tried to bring her closer and she moved away and wiped off the makeup that had transferred onto his face. "You're messing up my lipstick, Bass."

"And it's an excellent look for you," he smirked as she stood to go and reapply it. As she moved toward the mirror, she watched his eyes follow her form in the reflection of the glass. "Of course, an even more excellent look for you is what you look like when the dress comes off."

She stopped at her dresser and puckered her lips as she retraced them in red. "That may be a possibility if you are a good boy tonight."

"What does being a good boy entail?" He rose from the bed and approached her, his eyes glued to her body, looking lustful to distraction. And she thought briefly that he was devastatingly attractive, everything about him, from his smoldering eyes to the way he stalked towards her.

She swallowed. "You know, running to get me drinks, making the rounds and talking to those society matrons that you loath," he was right behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, groaning into her neck. She took a slow breath and closed her eyes. "And you have to pretend to be nice to everyone unless I say so."

"Really?" he growled, kissing her neck. She reached back to run her hand down the side of his face.

"Chuck…"

He didn't look up. "Hmmm?"

She twisted out of his reach and turned to face him. "We're going to be late, if we don't leave within the next ten minutes."

He scowled. "That's plenty of time."

She smirked. "I'll leave you to your fantasies, darling," she took his hand and tugged. "But we have to go." He gave her a long-suffering look as he allowed himself to be dragged out of the room.

"Regardless of what happens tonight, I'll be taking great delight in removing that dress from your body." She giggled as she towed him down the hall.

"By the way, Serena told me that some old friends are making a grand return to Manhattan tonight," she pouted. "It made me realize how out of touch I've been recently."

"I've told you several times to get your pretty little head out of your work and come up for air."

When she spun around to face him, slowing her walk, he cocked an eyebrow at her suggestively. "We've missed you."

Blair slowed so she was walking next to him and raised her mouth to his ear. "You don't know what deprivation is, Chuck. And that isn't the point." Her eyes glimmered as she looked up at him. "Do you remember Robert Alton?"

"Of course. He went off three years ago to the West Coast." Chuck returned her look with a mildly surprised one of his own. "That's who you are talking about?"

"Why so shocked?" Blair said curiously. "And his sons are returning as well, Finn and Christopher..."

Chuck's expression morphed to one of distaste. "_Christopher Alton_," he growled, "is returning from whatever sanitarium they committed him to?"

Blair frowned. "He was away at boarding school with his brother... what are you—" her face lit in recognition. "Ohhhh... Chuck, you can't be serious—"

"Can't I?" Chuck cut in furiously. "I remember that little miscreant and his bizarre preoccupation with Emilia!"

"Chuck," Blair said again, in a patient tone that sat oddly with her. "They were friends three years ago, it was completely innocent!"

"To his dismay..."

"Yes, because all twelve-year old boys think along those lines!" When Chuck angrily opened his mouth to protest, Blair saw immediately where he was going.

"Do not project your issues onto him! Not all of us lost our virginity at the age of twelve!"

"And not all of us were standing off the edges of skyscrapers and crashing motorcycles at the age of twelve either!" Blair rolled her eyes and turned to go, when Chuck's hand wrapped around her forearm and pulled her back into him. "If you think, that I would allow our daughter to go within ten feet of that unhinged—"

"Chuck, stop," she interrupted. She looked at him through her lashes and put a hand on his chest. "This is not an issue at all right now, and I want to enjoy tonight." Chuck sighed as her hand continued its journey up his chest and wrapped around his neck. He knew what she was doing, but he never did have the strength to resist her in anything. "Please don't make this an issue," she pleaded.

He stared at her as she threw her other arm around his neck and he placed his loosely at her waist. "Blair," he muttered. When she turned her doe eyes on him, he sighed in defeat. "But if I notice that—" Blair cut him off with an enthusiastic kiss.

"Shhh," she hushed him after pulling back, "don't ruin it."

"Ugh, come on, aren't we going to be late?" They both turned to see their daughter watching them with a half-disgusted look on her face.

Blair smiled at Emilia and looked her over. "And if we were, that wouldn't be our fault. This is the first you've emerged from your room in two hours."

"Time well spent," Chuck said with a smirk. "You look beautiful, Princess." And she did, in a violet, less conservative, Waldorf Original that clung to her form in a very flattering way. Her curls were done up and her makeup was subtle. Chuck almost didn't feel comfortable with hormonal teenage boys seeing his daughter like this. Blair tucked a stray lock of hair carefully behind her daughter's ear as she grinned at her dad.

Chuck kissed the top of Emilia's head and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Listen to me, I don't want you talking to any of the unkempt boys in that room unless you clear it with me. And I don't want you to leave the ballroom unless you have to go to the bathroom, and even then I want you to go with a girl friend…"

"Daddy, relax," Emilia began.

"First—"

"Chuck, really." Blair interjected after Emilia gave her mother a pleading look. "We will all be in the same room all night. You'll be able to see everything that occurs and everyone can see you behave like a lunatic when some perfectly normal boy tries to speak with your daughter. Remember that." Emilia giggled at Chuck's scowl. At the foot of the stairs, Damon was waiting for them impatiently.

"Some of them aren't so normal, Blair." Chuck's eyes fell back onto Emilia. "Did you know that the Altons have returned to Manhattan?"

Emilia cleared her throat. "Yes, actually, I did. Why?"

"I don't want you going near that Alton kid. The crazy one that used to—"

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Dad," Emilia said firmly. "But just so you know, I had no plans to speak to Christopher tonight."

Chuck eyed her carefully; he had been expecting a fight, and it made him suspicious but it wasn't like he had to worry about it now. "...Good, then let's go." The maid handed them their coats and Damon muttered, "Finally!" and they left their penthouse.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N: I got this out quickly, and that is rare for me :). Enjoy and please review! Encouragement and constructive criticism are extremely helpful and very much appreciated!

"Conor!" At his name, Conor looked up from his book to see his twin standing in the doorway to his room. Then she paused as she took in his form curiously. "You're not even dressed."

"What's up?" He moodily ignored her last comment. He could be charitable at times with his sister, but it was on rare occasion. It annoyed him the way she flounced all over the place. And as typical as ever, she was smiling widely.

"Nate is going to be back tonight! He'll be at the gala!"

"Great." He continued on reading.

At the lack of enthusiasm, his blond sister wilted. "What's with you?"

"Well, what do you want me to say? Why the hell would I be excited that Nate's back in town?"

She paused thoughtfully. "I don't know. Why not? He's a great guy and he's always really nice to us, and he's Leila's fath—"

"And not yours, Julia. So get over it." Conor flung the book down on his bedspread. "What is it about Nate that gets everybody so excited?! You find out he's back in town and suddenly you're wetting your pants with happiness?" Julia cringed at that last, but Conor went on undeterred. "He's not that wonderful! And he's not part of our family!"

Julia was quiet for a moment. "Dad left, Conor. And he didn't say he was coming back."

"You don't care," Conor snarled. Julia blinked, looking hurt and Conor almost regretted saying it.

"You're a jerk, Conor. And you think just because Dad left that you can be. He isn't coming back; you heard his fight with Mom just like I did. I just don't want to be sad and angry for the rest of my life. I'm trying to forget—"

"I'm not going to forget him!" Conor blasted. "He's our Dad, Julia! He'll come back, if not for anything but us. I'm not going to think that he just left us because everybody always thought he was a deadbeat. They're all wrong." He glanced up at her bitterly. "You would probably love it if the _wonderful _Senator Nate Archibald married Mom. Then we could pretend we are the perfect family and forget Dad ever existed, right? Well, screw that! Newsflash, Julia: Nate and Mom aren't even dating. They've been friends for years, and that's it. So how about instead of forgetting Dad, you forget your stupid fantasies!"

This was the Conor that Julia had known ever since Carter disappeared: moody and sullen most of the time, angry and aggressive the rest of it. Not only did her dad abandon them, but he created a monster and ruined her brother's life while he was at it. And she was supposed to miss him? Julia blinked back tears while Conor awkwardly calmed himself and laid his head back against his bed, looking unblinkingly at the ceiling.

Finally, Julia shook her head. "This is what he's done to you, don't you see? I hate it, Conor, and I hope he never comes back." And she left her brother to gaze at his colorless ceiling, thinking about his father.

He had to get ready for the charity gala. His grandparents expected them and he needed to be ready, or his mother would pitch a fit. His mom wanted to understand, but she couldn't. Everyone had expected it when his dad was out of the picture. Carter was well-known for being a fickle drifter with a gambling problem, and Serena, well... she was beautiful and flashy and tried so hard to be uncomplicated. They said that Aunt Blair was the one for fairytales, but his mom... she didn't like difficulty, and his dad had become difficult. Conor wasn't sure when, but somewhere through the course of their frowned-upon marriage, it had lost whatever it was that had brought them together.

He didn't blame his father because his mom was just as flighty in her affections. She was too carefree for marriage.

He wished his father would come back. He was sick of the way Damon Bass sneered at him for daring to defend his own father, or the way his mom and Aunt Blair would give him a pitying glance every now and then. He was sick of hearing people mutter that it was bound to happen from the moment they said their vows. Most of all, he was sick of that fact that his father was proving them all right.

* * *

In the Bass limo, Damon was sitting next to his sister, who had taken the window seat. He fiddled with his tie and watched his parents talk softly to each other, his mother's head was resting on his father's shoulder. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but after his mother said something, Chuck smirked and dropped a kiss on her head. He wished he had a window to stare out of, like Emilia. He glared at the back of her head for a moment, before turning back to stare straight ahead. Unfortunately, he could still see his mom and dad out of the corner of his eye.

As nauseating as they could be, it was nice to know that his parents loved each other; that was something of a phenomenon for the elite. One could easily go as far as to say that their love story was the stuff of legend on the Upper East Side. Everyone knew about Chuck and Blair- the typical and yet extraordinary, quintessential princess and the wild and dark Casanova that could silence a room with his mere presence. Emilia always said that the reason people were so taken with them was not because they were the unofficial king and queen of the UES, but because most of these people didn't know half the story. "It leaves everything to the imagination," Emilia once said knowingly. "None of those society gossips really know what made Mom and Dad get together, so they make it up in their heads."

The boy's gaze was drawn lazily to his father, who was still looking down at his mom. The expression on his face couldn't be described as anything less than tender, and _that _was a look that the great Chuck Bass bestowed on very few, and rarely with whomever he bestowed it upon. Damon was sure that people had to wonder what the attraction was; he thought maybe if he really cared, it would even drive him crazy if he didn't already know. Who could tame a drug-ridden, alcoholic, sex-obsessed deviant? Apparently, the answer was the prim and virginal beauty that dated your best friend and had a tendency to fall on the neurotic-ice-bitch end of the spectrum.

It had thrown everyone for a loop. And yet, Damon really never knew the man his father had been all those years ago. He only knew the outline of his parents' tumultuous and infamous relationship. But Chuck had never kept his mottled past from his children, in hopes that they could learn from his mistakes. Still, Damon could only see a mere shadow of the terrible behavior that his father had taken as a claim to fame. His father was still ruthless, smarmy, manipulative, and powerful and he could see the wild abandon as a possibility, but there had never been a time in Damon's life when Chuck wasn't entirely and intensely devoted to his wife. Blair had changed him in a profound way, and all of Manhattan knew it. How? He thought that maybe his parents were the only ones that knew entirely.

"Why must we attend this thing?"

Blair and Chuck both faced Damon. "They are honoring your grandfather, of course you have to attend," Blair said matter-of-factly. "It isn't going to be that awful."

Damon looked away. "I didn't say it was going to be awful."

"Then what are you saying, sweetheart?"

Damon shook his head. "I wasn't saying anything. It was just a question." His tone bordered on defensive and both of his parents wondered why. There was a pause and Emilia continued to look out the window, oblivious to her surroundings.

Chuck fixed him with a stare. "It isn't going to be a stuffy society gathering with only the older set. Your cousins are going to be there, for one. Not to mention, I'm sure that some of your other classmates will be there."

"It's fine, Dad. It's just… tedious."

Blair smirked and Chuck clapped his son on the shoulder. "Trust me, Son. I've been there. Besides," his eyes gleamed, "you never know what will happen in a room full of Manhattan's finest."

Damon wasn't one for optimism. "I could guess." He sank back in the seat as they neared their destination, loosening his tie the smallest bit.

Blair's attention was drawn to Emilia, who hadn't torn her eyes from the view of the window, her fingers pulling at the chain of her necklace. "Emilia..."

Emilia's chocolate's eyes flitted to her mother's matching ones, slightly startled. "Yes?"

"You look upset about something, baby."

Emilia shook her head slowly. "No, I'm fine." But Blair could see that the faraway look hadn't completely disappeared from her eyes.

"This isn't about Christopher Alton, is it?" Chuck's voice cut in. Emilia glared at him.

"No! Why are you insisting on harping on that? He was a friend years ago and I haven't spoken to him in forever! I wouldn't even think about him if you didn't keep bringing it up!"

There was a moment of stunned silence at her abrupt outburst, even Damon looked taken aback. Emilia was a Daddy's girl first and foremost, and rarely raised her voice to her father. The car came to a halt and Arthur walked around it to pull open the door for them.

Chuck slid out and pulled his wife by the hand after him. There were a few paparazzi congregated by the doors who snapped pictures of them. They smiled obligingly for a second and Chuck's hand crept to the small of Blair's back as he leaned into her ear.

"Walk with Damon. I want to have a word with our daughter." Damon and Emilia were exiting the limo as Blair maintained her smile.

"Chuck…"

"It's fine." He turned to his daughter and took her by the arm gently. Blair sighed and tucked her hand into the crook of Damon's elbow. They walked ahead slightly, to give Chuck and Emilia privacy.

Emilia's mouth was a set line as she allowed her dad to pull her along. There was no sign of tension, they were both talented actors for the outside world.

"Emilia, what have I always told you about defensive behavior and what it means...?" Chuck began smoothly.

"Not this time, Dad," she said curtly

Chuck didn't say anything for a minute. "Then tell me what it is. Your mother and I have both noticed that you haven't been acting like yourself all day."

"I will," she promised quickly. "But not now, okay?" They were entering the ballroom, which was well-lit and beautifully decorated. They closely followed Blair and Damon, who were making their way towards Lily and Bart. "Please, Daddy?"

She was trying to appeal to him, but he wasn't going to blatantly give in to her. "Let's congratulate your grandfather, shall we?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly at the change of topic, but as they approached Lily and Bart, she composed herself and joined her mother and brother. Bart turned to her and nodded softly when she stood beside Damon. "Emilia."

"Hi Grandpa," she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, "Congratulations." He returned the hug somewhat awkwardly. Bart Bass was not a man that characteristically appreciated hugs, but he tended to make an exception for his granddaughter. She secretly enjoyed watching him unwillingly submit to her affection, knowing that there was some bad blood between him and her father, even now. Still, she didn't do it often simply because she didn't want to push it.

"Well, thank you," he said stiffly. She stepped back again and turned to the woman standing beside him.

"Grandma Lily," she kissed her on the cheek and Lily smiled softly.

"Emilia, darling. You look lovely," she was holding the girl's hands out to look her over. "I love the dress. Blair, is this one of yours?"

Chuck was leaning into Blair's ear, and whispered something. Blair nodded and he disappeared as she turned her attention to the two women. "Yes, actually," she smiled. Leila is wearing one, too. My mother always found it effective to show off her dresses on me, and these are just coming onto the line."

Damon scanned the room with apparent boredom. "Is Julia here yet?"

"And Conor?" Blair filled in coolly; she raised her eyebrows. "And could you possibly trouble to be polite?"

Damon smiled guilelessly at his mother. "Well, that _was_ the agreement…"

Bart frowned, as he caught the tail-end of the conversation after shaking hands with an older man. "Speaking of, is Serena definitely going to put in an appearance?" His tone suggested that he highly doubted it.

"She told me she was. But I believe she'll be a bit late since Nate just got back to the city an hour or so ago," Blair answered.

Damon looked pleased. "I've missed Uncle Nate..." Blair flashed him a warning look, clearly expressing the fact that she would be keeping a watchful eye on him. Chuck then returned with a glass of champagne for Blair, which she plucked up with a smirk.

"What about Nathaniel?"

Emilia cast a glance at her brother and rolled her eyes. "Leila will probably be monopolizing him the whole night anyway. He's been gone for two weeks now. And actually, I think they're meeting him here." She nodded slightly towards the doors.

* * *

She caught a glimpse of his familiar form when she looked past a few couples stepping out of their cars. She missed her clean-shaven, charismatic, and handsome father, so she couldn't suppress a squeal. "Daddy!"

She fairly ran through a few stricken society wives and bounded into his arms. Decorum was something the Bass family prided themselves on (though anyone who knew what really happened behind closed doors could recognize that for the farce that it was); Leila never claimed that particular trait. Nate lifted her and spun her once with a laugh that warmed her to hear again. "How's my girl?"

Leila could hear the clicks of cameras, and the cries of "Senator!" but she didn't care. "I've missed you so much," she said sincerely, feeling like a little girl again.

Her father smiled and reached out to brush her cheek. "I've missed you too, baby." He pulled her to him again and she laughed. "Where's your mom?"

Leila turned and immediately spotted Serena with Julia and Conor. She gestured to them needlessly, because Nate had already noticed them. He strode over to Serena with Leila closely behind and gave her a kiss on the cheek, smiling widely at her. "How've you been, S?" he asked softly.

Serena smiled at him fondly and patted his cheek with the ease that Serena van der Woodsen always possessed. "I've been good, Nate. You've been missed, though." Nate looked down at Julia and Conor who were lingering somewhat behind their mother uncertainly.

"Hey guys," he greeted them.

"Hi Nate," they mumbled in unison. Serena looked back at them and then took Nate by the arm. "Shall we?" she giggled, all sunshine as usual, and he smiled at the familiarity.

"Take me anywhere," he answered with his usual sincerity. Leila filled in on his other side and the twins trailed behind.

Serena looked back at her two younger children with something akin to sorrow in her features, before glazing them over with a purely maternal look. "Conor, promise me that there won't be any incidents with you and Damon tonight."

"I could promise until I was blue in the face and you still wouldn't believe me," Conor answered instantaneously, his eyes were on Nate, watching him carefully. Serena rolled her eyes.

"Honey, you know that isn't true. Just try and be nice." They entered the place and Serena immediately spotted her mother, Bart, Blair and Chuck. They all headed that way and were met with smiles and greetings.

Nate clapped Chuck on the back and gave Blair a kiss on the cheek, then nodded to Bart and Lily. "Mr. and Mrs. Bass."

"Nate," Lily said fondly.

Bart nodded stiffly. "Good evening, Nathaniel."

Emilia looked up and smiled. "Hi, Uncle Nate." Nate wrapped his arms around her quickly.

"Hi, sweetheart." When she pulled away, Leila jumped in next to her and linked arms and Nate surveyed the two and thought for about the thousandth time how they looked like two girls he had once known. The dark and complicated. The light and easy. And there was so much more to them, he knew. He had known all four girls too well and it fascinated him as much as it scared him, how similar Leila was to Serena and Emilia to Blair. There was a feeling that was ever-present, that he could see what they would become because he had seen their older versions follow some path- like he knew where their lives were mapped. It was a strange and confusing feeling, but mostly, and he was deeply ashamed of this, it made him fear for his daughter.

Nate looked next to him to see Chuck scrutinizing the two girls in much the same way, and he wondered if the other three ever thought along the same lines. That was when he felt Damon shift next to him and he looked down at the son of his best friend. He gave the boy a one-armed hug. "How's it going, my man?" he said playfully. Damon was serious, in that way that Blair and Chuck had always been. That controlling way; he understood how things worked and how to manipulate them. So when Damon quirked an eyebrow and grinned, Nate felt slightly suspicious.

"Uncle Nate, how was your trip?"

"To be honest, I'm glad it's over with."

Damon waved a hand airily. "Of course, it's better when you're here, with the family." He enunciated every word, which only served to confuse Nate. He thought he heard Blair clear her throat, though.

"Well, you know I'd rather stick around, Dam. How's school?"

"Sufficiently boring, thank you."

Blair sighed dramatically. "Please, Nate, don't ask about his education. I don't need to be reminded of the fact that my brilliant son chooses to put forth no effort."

Bart chuckled. "Like his father." Chuck glanced at Bart. That was a strange new mode of attack his dad had picked up. He would insult Chuck under the guise of fondly reprimanding his grandson, finding it easy enough because they were so alike.

Blair rallied expertly for Chuck, leaning against his shoulder affectionately. "Yes, it's difficult to live among all of that untapped brilliance." Chuck smirked at her and his eyes sent her a thank you when Bart nodded silently at the comment.

Serena, however, was frowning at Conor. "Dam isn't the only one whose too cool for school, is he, Conor?"

They all laughed good-naturedly at Conor and Damon's expense, and the two both stood there, taking it much the same way. Blair finally spoke. "At least you have Julia to neutralize the academic disgrace." Her hand delicately went to her niece's head. "Or maybe she could at least explain to us why our two very smart boys insist on failing."

Julia smiled at her aunt and shrugged. With the attention on Serena's youngest, the two older girls planned to make their escape. Emilia and Leila were about to walk away when Serena gently pulled them back. "Where are you two going?"

They smiled a little too widely and Emilia shrugged. "We wanted to get some champagne."

"Oh?" Blair asked, watching her daughter intently. But Emilia had acquired her mother's talents for the stare down. She met her Blair's gaze without hesitation.

"Yes, Mother."

"We'll be back in a little bit." Without waiting for a response, they strode over to a waiter, their movements matching. Chuck glared.

"I wonder if the Altons have arrived yet," he said casually, but Blair knew better.

"Down boy," she said under her breath, smirking.

"The Altons?" Nate looked confused.

"Yes, Nathaniel, the Altons. Remember Robert and his twin boys... the ones that are the same age as our daughters..."

Nate's face lit up in recognition, before it swiftly turned aggressive. "You mean the one that rode the motorcycle and hung off buildings and his enabler brother?"

"Yes, exactly that. You see my point."

"Where are the girls?" Nate and Chuck wore identical threatening expressions.

Serena looked amused, as did Lily. "Okay, protective daddies, I think it's time to settle down. Besides, every girl goes through a bad-boy stage." She looked at Blair pointedly. "Some never grow out of it."

But Chuck missed the last comment entirely. "Easy for you to say, sis. Just because you made it out alive..."

Blair's heel came down on Chuck's foot when Serena's face fell, and he hissed in pain. Nate rolled his eyes, but continued to watch his daughter and niece from where they stood in a corner with a pack of girls surrounding them.

Bart frowned. "Charles, that was uncalled for." But they all knew he said that mainly for Lily's benefit, as he wasn't fond of Baizen anymore than the other men.

"And if you think I'm going to let either of you go ten rounds in the playground, you can forget it," Blair snapped to both Nate and Chuck. Serena nodded her head in agreement. Then Blair's energies were turned solely to Chuck. "And you cannot ignore Robert Alton at this event. We have to welcome him just like anybody else."

Chuck looked at Blair mockingly. "The Queen must perform her duties."

Blair raised her eyebrows and watched him intently. Their gazes locked so intensely that the others in the circle wanted to look away. The couple (well, Blair) considered PDA beneath them, but they had a way of making a trivial glance seem terribly inappropriate. "Yes... she does, Chuck."

"As long as his bohemian son keeps away from my daughter, I'll greet him with a smile."

Bart grew tired of the small talk and excused himself to disappear into the crowd with Lily and make his rounds as the guest of honor. Blair tore her gaze from Chuck and smiled at Nate. "How was the trip?"

Nate grinned back at her and put his hands in his pockets. "I can say that I'm happy for the break from politics. What have I missed?"

Blair's finger rotated around the rim of her champagne flute. "I'm sure Emilia will be bursting to tell you that she's the new Constance Queen."

"The new era," Nate mused, with hints of nostalgia and bitterness. And they all looked around at each other, remembering the high school that had evolved them into _this_. Recalling that what they had lived and breathed- the scandal and the status quo, would be inflicted just as harshly and as wonderfully onto their children as it had them.

"That would explain the small court she's holding over there," Chuck drawled. "And I'm sure your daughter will be taking up the 'wild child' mantle?"

"Not if I can help it," Nate growled.

"Darling, why don't you two act like real gentlemen and get us some more champagne?" Blair said with poisoned sweetness. "I need a break from the caveman routine."

Chuck took her glass without comment and Nate followed in mild shock. He had to comment once they were a safe distance away. "Man, I know you're whipped, but—"

Chuck didn't even spare him a look. "Learn, Nathaniel. The drunker Blair is, the happier I'll be later tonight."

"Right."

* * *

"So, what will be your first act as Queen?" asked a girl, whose name Emilia could not remember for the life of her. This had been the way of things all night; everyone attending Constance was clamoring to inquire about the new regime.

"Well, when I decide, you're hardly going to be the first person I tell. You'll have to wait and see," Emilia responded cattily. The group went silent, slightly in awe of their new leader and Leila looked at the other girl, almost feeling sorry for her. Leila knew that this was the way it would be for the next two or three years, Emilia maintaining respect with her cutting wit and withering glare. It was the "surface" Emilia, but Leila could stand it if she didn't have to worry about the best friend underneath. And by all rights, Em was always the same with her.

"And will our Queen be providing a King?" Jenna Beauchamp asked, sipping her drink slowly. The girl always teetered on the verge of audacity, and Emilia only kept her around because she didn't trust her.

Predictably, Emilia narrowed her eyes. But Leila noticed what she was sure the other girls didn't, and that was the pulse of her best friend's throat jumping ever so slightly, her eyes twitching for the smallest second to the entrance of the hall. She had been hiding her nervousness all night. Leila reached for Emilia's hand, hidden from view at the moment, and squeezed it comfortingly.

The brunette didn't look at her, but allowed the gesture for a moment to absorb what it offered before pulling her hand back again and sending a stomach-dropping sneer Jenna's way. "This coming from the girl that causes commitment deficiency in every guy she sleeps with," she placed emphasis on the word 'sleeps' and smiled viciously. "Of course, _your_ mother is on her... I believe it's the third husband, right?" What went unspoken, but came across clearly was that fact that Emilia's mother had managed to get and keep the most legendary of Upper East Side playboys.

Jenna flinched, but took the hit and maintained her composure incredibly well, considering. "I'm not Queen," she pointed out finally.

Emilia blinked and then flashed her a smirk. "No. You aren't." Then she shifted in her place, as if she had tired of this question-and-answer session. "And I'm under no obligation to date someone from St. Jude's or anywhere else."

"What about Ethan?"

She scoffed at the name of her former boyfriend, if he could be called that. "He can't even manage to remember what he had for breakfast in the morning. And I'm done with him." She frowned slightly at the girl who had spoken. "Not that it's any of your business." Then, she pushed off the wall. "It's been fun, ladies, but I'm afraid that I have to leave you." That was all the explanation they were going to get. She turned to Leila, who left with her, fighting off a fit of laughter.

"What?!" Emilia was smiling, but it mingled with annoyance as they walked further away from the Constance Billiard girls.

"You, E..." she giggled. "It was good, but you were so... so..." suddenly her laughter faded and her mouth dropped. Emilia wrinkled her nose at the expression.

"That's so unbecoming, L."

"No, look!" Leila gripped her shoulders and whipped her around to face the doors.

Emilia reflexively sucked in a deep breath at the sight. Standing there, like he had never left, green eyes gleaming under his dark brow, was Christopher Alton.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N: Here's the next part. The beginning of the story is a little more centered on the kids, but that focus will shift. PLEASE read and review! It helps to know what you guys think or whether I should keep up with this. Anything you say helps :)

It didn't matter. Not one bit. It meant nothing that he was here. Emilia stepped roughly out of Leila's grasp and turned away from him. She didn't know if he had seen her, but she was aching to have the answer. "Shouldn't we be taking our seats soon?"

Leila had an understanding expression on her face that Emilia simply loathed at the moment. "Not for another half-hour at least."

"Then I'm sure that we're expected to mingle, L."

Leila shook her head in disbelief. "Like my mom would ever care if I made nice with these hypocrites."

"Yes, but _I_ have to... so you—"

"This is ridiculous, E—"

"No!" Emilia saw a couple of heads turn towards them and she grabbed her blond friend's arm, pulling her closer and lowering her voice with a tense smile. "It's not. Daddy wants me to avoid him anyway."

"What does Uncle Chuck know about—"

"Everything he needs to know in order to despise him. So I'm off the hook."

Leila watched her friend seriously. "If you don't go to Chris, he will find you, Em. I guarantee it."

"You have no idea what you're talking about. I think it's been established that he's not one to chase." She clamped her arm around the golden girl. "I want a drink." It seemed like Leila was going to accompany her, but then she gently disentangled herself.

"No, E. I'm officially out of this."

Emilia watched her petulantly, before anger came to the surface. "Of what?"

Leila could see her mother laughing with Mr. Something-Or-Other and she sighed. "Whatever this becomes, it's going to be messy. Because I know you; you'll make it a big deal. It's what you do best." Then she glanced over to where Emilia was sure that Chris was now situated, her green eyes growing wide. "And he's crazy... it's a bad combination."

"Which is why we won't be mixing."

Leila smiled sadly at the brunette. "You're good with words, Em. But that isn't going to help you now. Talk to him for real." Before the other girl could get another word out, her friend had gone. Finding herself alone, she spun out and immediately moved in the opposite direction when she saw that familiar shock of jet black hair in her peripheral vision. This time, she knew that he had noticed her. She could feel it, as much as she wanted to banish the heat rising in her back, concentrated where she was sure his gaze was centered.

Her hand found another glass of champagne off a silver serving platter carried by a passing waiter. She lifted her arm to down it, when another hand delicately clasped her wrist. It was her mother, who had recently moved away from a gaggle of society wives. "Don't drink it like that," she said. "You'll be intoxicated within the hour."

"Maybe I need it."

"I don't think so." Before she could react, Blair took the flute and placed it on a table. Then, she guided her daughter to a more secluded area. "What's wrong with you, Emilia? And don't try to deflect this time; I'm worried about you."

"I can handle it, Mother. Really."

Blair was silent for a moment. "No, you can't. I know where 'handling it' alone will get you, Emilia. And now, more than ever, I need you to remember that you aren't alone. Whatever it is."

Emilia stared at her mother, trying very honestly to not get angry. She understood where her mother was coming from, but she was so off-base, it was annoying. Plus, she couldn't stay in one place for too long or Chris could find a way to corner her. She didn't have time for this. "It's nothing." When Blair looked thoroughly unconvinced, she held up a hand. "Nothing that you could possibly help me with. It's just me."

"Is this about a boy?"

"For your sake, I hope not." And there was her father... again.

Blair looked exasperated. "Chuck, we were talking—"

"It's fine, Mom. I'm going to make some rounds, okay?" She wasn't about to stick around to listen to her dad repeatedly warn her about the terrors of the male persuasion.

"Emilia... great, Chuck." Blair elbowed her husband neatly in the ribs, and he caught her arm with a groan.

"Save the rough stuff for later, Blair."

"Let go!" He held firmly so she huffed. "Do you care at all that Emilia has been acting strangely the entire day? I was about to get it out of her!"

"Fat chance," he hissed in her ear. "She was going to keep her lips sealed, and I think you know that."

Blair yanked her arm again, angrily. "Well, unlike you, I'm going to continue to bother her until I know exactly what is going on."

Chuck smirked and turned Blair to face him. "You didn't let me finish, darling. I was just about to suggest that we do some detective work."

The transformation was sudden; her chocolate eyes darkened and her red lips curled upwards in a slow, dangerous smirk. Oh no, Chuck thought desperately as he immediately began to feel hot. "I was beginning to think that you had grown soft." She spoke in a way that it was apparent to Chuck that she had no idea of the effect she was having on him.

This was a time when he despised the fact that they were at a public function that they couldn't disappear from without attracting attention. His pants were already beginning to tighten from her hooded, punch-drunk expression and he shifted uncomfortably. He tried to hide it from her, but at his adjustment, her eyes flickered below his belt. She smirked and cleared her throat demurely. "Be careful, Mr. Bass. You're getting a little too happy. And we have work to do."

Plague. Starvation. War. Brooklyn Interlopers. "I'm fine," he said huskily, stepping out of her space so he could calm down. "But we should probably find a new version of foreplay."

Blair laughed lightly and matched his step to stroke the lapel of his jacket. "Who said anything about foreplay…" She was only half-serious.

"Blair…" he said through clenched teeth. If she kept stepping into his proximity, he would lose control. She laughed again and leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"I'm going to go over there... come find me, when everything's 'handled'... and we'll work on Emilia..." she wiped off the kiss and left him in the corner, her hips swaying as she left.

"Bitch."

* * *

He saw her, and he knew that she knew. He watched her well-toned figure tense as she walked off in the opposite direction. Her pace was a little quicker than usual, but not enough to attract attention. He supposed that was one of the things that he liked about her—she always did just enough to achieve her goal, but never to the point that people could see beyond her cool and collected exterior.

He was beyond trying to figure out what was occurring in his mind. He wanted to see her and talk to her and see her smile again (though he doubted she would be doing much smiling for him). It was a simple need that he wasn't going to puzzle over, he wasn't the type to worry about it.

His feet almost moved of their own volition, towards the path she had just gracefully parted for herself through the multitudes of high-society sycophants. Her name just as easily forced people to make way, but there was also a quality about her... he was getting sentimental. He shook his head, trying to banish the feeling and felt his twin brother come up behind him.

"Don't even look."

"I wasn't," Christopher said simply and he shrugged off his brother's hand. Finn looked curiously at his brother, who turned to him with a glint in his eye. "She looks good."

"And you want to destroy her?"

"No," then he laughed bitterly. "But what if I can't help it?"

* * *

Nate came up behind his daughter and pulled her into him, kissing her on the head. "Hey, sweetheart. Where's the Queen?"

Leila gave him a dimpled smile but she shook her head at his joking reference to Emilia. "I don't know; she's somewhere around here. I'm annoyed with her right now."

"What about?"

"Nothing... I just hate how whenever something happens that isn't part of her _plan_, she ignores it. You can't just ignore things you don't like, you know?" Leila always felt strangely able to tell her dad anything... to an extent, of course. It was probably because he never asked questions or even tried to pry information out of her.

He looked down at her with a soft grin. "Sounds a lot like a girl I used to know." His eyes focused off, somewhere else, but she didn't follow his gaze. "She grew up and realized that life can't be a perfect plan. And she actually realized that sometimes it's better when you're not trying to control things, and so will Emilia."

"Too bad sooner rather than later would be good for tonight."

As she said this, her father turned to look at her again, concern clear in his features. "Is this something serious?"

Leila saw his face and backtracked. "No, no! Just… well... but not, like… life-threatening important, or something."

Nate looked amused at her babbling. "Are you sure?"

"Of course, Dad," she clutched his arm and smiled brilliantly. "Let's just forget it and find Mom."

Nate allowed himself to be towed to where Serena was conversing with Blair. Julia was also nearby, where she was talking with two girls around her age. "Where'd Damon and Conor go?"

Julia turned at the sound of her sister's voice and pointed over to where some of the younger guests were standing. Conor was talking to some boy she had never seen before and Damon was leaning against a pillar with a glass of champagne in hand. She watched him finish it in two clean swallows. Leila wondered if Blair knew he was drinking; Chuck wouldn't care, but she'd heard her aunt complain when Chuck would allow Damon to have any alcohol. Then she saw her uncle smoothly making his way toward her mother and Blair. He glanced at Damon briefly and Leila saw them make eye contact. Chuck winked at his son, who smirked and raised his glass.

Leila rolled her eyes and watched Chuck approach when she saw it. A young man was walking unhurriedly towards her best friend. It was Chris, she was sure of it. Not just because of the dark hair or the angular bone structure, but something that she even surprised herself with remembering. Chris always had a very unique way of walking. She thought back to when she knew him and recalled how she always became preoccupied with how Chris moved back then. Maybe it was because no one ever knew what Chris was going to do, his impulsiveness as infamous as it was frightening. It was like a shadow, she thought, that was what she used to think of when he walked. And he was making his way towards Emilia.

"Uncle Chuck!" He couldn't turn around. Emilia said he didn't want her talking to Chris, and Leila had been around long enough to know that Chuck Bass only needed to will something for it to happen. Her uncle looked over when she called him and frowned. She wished that Emilia could at least tell her what to do now; Leila was talentless at scheming.

When Chuck came over, Leila hugged him. She needed time to think. He returned the hug hesitantly, because it was weirdly spontaneous. "It's been a while."

Chuck pulled back and stared at her. "Leila. It's been a day or two. Are you alright?" Leila saw her Aunt Blair look over at them curiously. The woman could sense diversion a mile away. She was out of her league.

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and swallowed. "Yes... but... you and Dad haven't talked in ages! You should catch up!" Chris was so close, only another five feet, each step becoming more hesitant, but there was the slightest smile on his face. Her uncle caught her line of vision and turned to follow it. "What—?"

* * *

He was selfish; probably the most selfish, horrible person to have ever lived. He knew that he couldn't be anything to her in the way that she wanted. It wasn't in him and it never would be. But he couldn't stand to linger on the fringes of a room watching her every move. They should have never left it the way that they did. He should have opened his damn mouth. But, like he knew, it just wasn't in him.

Her mocha locks were perfectly coifed, and she was more beautiful than she had been a year ago. She was growing into herself and it was stunning. A part of him loved that she had an attachment to him and she had been actively avoiding him all night. A part of him loved that he had the power to hurt this fantastic creature.

He was close and she could probably sense him as usual. Strangely, he didn't see her usual uncomfortable tensing, but she suddenly turned and walked away. He would have followed, but he looked beyond her in the direction that she was moving and thought better of it. Her father was there, and Chris didn't want to stir up too much immediately. Better to wait until he could catch her alone and they could talk.

He returned to his brother and father, the latter of which had just finished chatting it up with an associate. Robert turned to his sons and eyed them with faint confusion. "Not going to mingle with the rest of society?"

Finn shrugged and Chris kept his dark eyes on the ground. "Who should we talk to?"

Robert sighed in annoyance. "I thought you two would be of some help re-introducing us to Manhattan. Don't any of your old friends want to talk to you?"

"I was never a hit at the cocktail parties, Dad, if you remember." Chris said with a strong note of delight in his voice.

Robert chose to ignore that, save a glower at his youngest son, and surveyed the room. His eyes finally brightened some and Chris turned to see that he was staring at Emilia, Leila, and Emilia's mother, Blair Waldorf-Bass. They were talking in hushed voices, but that didn't seem to deter his father.

"I see an old family friend. And luckily she also happens to be at the top of this insipid food chain." He grinned at his sons. "It's time you re-acquaint yourselves."

* * *

"Dad was just saying how he wanted to talk to you…" Leila grabbed Chuck by the shoulders to keep him from turning, but unfortunately, Blair mimicked her husband's movements and spotted what Chuck couldn't. In horror, Leila watched as her aunt's mouth dropped slightly in surprise, but then calmed. Leila looked back over to see that Emilia had started towards them, never once turning to look at Christopher. There was no way to tell whether Emilia had fled because she saw Chris or if it had been born of mere impulse.

"Leila." Her father shook her slightly. "What are you doing?" Both her dad and Chuck were staring at her in confusion. Blair looked over at her and shook her head subtly.

"Nothing. I just thought you'd want to talk. It's no big deal." Blair was suddenly at her side, hand on her arm.

"I wanted to talk to Leila about the dress she's wearing for my line. You two should catch up," her aunt said cheerfully and convincingly. Nate nodded without much thought, but Leila noticed that her uncle was watching his wife closely, and probably didn't think she was being completely innocent. But when Blair failed to flinch and merely raised an eyebrow, Chuck complied with her request and Blair pulled Leila away.

They didn't step too far away when Blair stopped and smiled as if she was chatting amicably with her niece. "Leila, sweetheart, I want to know what is going on with my daughter and I want to know now."

Her aunt made her nervous when she did this. There was a persistent look in her eye that promised trouble for whoever would be stupid enough to deny it. Leila's throat suddenly went very dry. "Is Em having trouble?" she asked innocently. She was very aware that playing dumb would only buy her milliseconds.

Blair looked at her shrewdly. "Obviously this has something to do with Christopher Alton. You were far too interested in making sure no one interrupted that boy when he was headed for my daughter."

"I... I was..."

Blair should have realized before, there had been obvious evidence- the way Emilia snapped at her father, the distracted staring into space, all of this starting around the same time Blair heard that the Altons were returning. "Tell me what is happening, Leila. It's better if you tell me now so I don't have to worry and I can take care of it, whatever it is."

Leila frowned at the assumption. "You can't take care of it, Aunt Blair. It's not like that."

The older woman's eyes sparked and Leila knew she had taken her words as a challenge. "I don't have any ideas about what this _is_, but I do know that Emilia hasn't been acting like herself all day. And whatever is going on cannot be more than I can do for her. Tell me what is going on."

"Really, Mom? Leila?" Emilia had slipped into their midst undetected, and she was glaring at her mother. Blair, for her part, did not react to the anger on her daughter's face.

"I tried to go straight to the source, but I found myself stone-walled, did I not?"

Emilia nodded, conceding the point. "It's the Alton boy," Blair finished. Leila watched her friend struggle to reveal nothing, to keep her face inscrutable, but there was a silent wince in her expression. Her mother took the opportunity and tenderly reached forward to brush the side of Emilia's cheek.

"You don't think I can help you?"

The girl shivered and moved away from the touch. "You can't, Mom. It's not that kind of thing. You can't help me." She smiled suddenly with an odd hint of detachment. "I'm fine, it's silly anyway."

"Emilia..."

"Blair Waldorf-Bass?" Blair felt a touch on her shoulder and she turned around to see Robert Alton standing before her, his two sons flanking him.

* * *

Damon was fiddling with a key when Conor stepped in front of him. Though the young Bass noticed his presence, he didn't bother to look up.

"What do you have, Bass?"

Damon palmed the key before slipping it into his pocket. "Nothing that concerns you." His bored brown eyes darted up to the other boy's ice ones. "Now, please run along. I promised my mother I wouldn't take issue with you." He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked off in the other direction, as if Conor was already gone.

The blond boy scoffed. "Yes, do what mommy tells you."

Damon smirked. "My mother is Blair Waldorf-Bass, I'd like to see you dare defy her. See how good you'll look in the morning." He paused for a beat, and then his eyes lit cruelly. "You should be happy that she's taken pity on you and asked me to play nice."

Conor thought that he couldn't possibly hate someone as much as he did his dark, malicious cousin. "You know what? I can't wait until somebody smashes your life to pieces, Bass. You can be sure I'll be there to laugh about it."

"How nice," Damon responded dryly.

"Consider it, returning the favor," he sneered. "But I bet it will happen. I bet you think that nothing will ever happen to you, and I bet something will. The mighty always fall."

Again, Damon looked severely indifferent. "I appreciate the fact that you think I'm 'mighty' but you won't provoke me tonight. I have better things to do."

Conor's eyes fell to his cousin's pocket, where he had just slipped that key. "You did something."

His eyes gleamed, but he did nothing more than shrug. Conor felt uneasy. "You did. That's why you're so... whatever. What the hell did you do?" he demanded.

"You may find out eventually. But honestly, do you think I'd tell you anything?" Damon straightened and adjusted his jacket. "Enjoy your night, Baizen," he drawled, much like his father, before stalking off.

* * *

The lawyer didn't look any different than he had three years ago. He was older, probably late forties or early fifties, Blair couldn't remember. His hair was peppered gray and his face was more distinguished-looking. He had very sharp features that he had passed on to his two sons, with definition in every curve of his face. Blair had always been convinced that his severe look was part of the reason he was so successful, or perhaps what had come of his success. He had a very weather-beaten look, which was very much mirrored in his two boys, except their youth would have it labeled "rugged" instead of "worn".

"Robert," Blair gave him a friendly smile. "It's been such a long time." She gave him a quick hug. They had been friends three years ago, or at least very good acquaintances. Their children were the same age and they had always run in the same circles. Chuck had always taken a liking to him, but if Blair were to admit it, she did too. He wasn't afraid to be ruthless, which was relieving for people like Chuck and Blair.

The man scratched his jaw. "Yes, I'm aware." He studied her politely. "But age has done you well, I must say."

"Thank you," was her gracious reply.

"I do remember that anyone who's anyone this side of Manhattan needed to establish that by talking to the right people," his voice was slightly teasing as he spread his arms, "so here I am." Like Chuck, Robert always seemed to find the societal laws amusing, but was fine with following them.

Leila and Emilia stayed where they were and watched the scene unfold; well, at least Leila did. Emilia hadn't taken her eyes from the young man to his left, and he was answering her stare with the same look. Neither was smiling and neither looked hurt or angry, but just watched each other.

Blair laughed in that fake way she did in public. "Flattery will get you anywhere," she said the clichéd phrase, and Leila could tell that she wasn't interested in the conversation. It was Emilia. Blair was watching her out of the corner of her eye as intently as she watched the dark young man staring at her daughter. There was something more to the story; Leila hadn't sensed what she knew her aunt had.

"And your two handsome sons," Blair motioned to the two. It was the first anyone had paid any notice to Finn, the older twin. They were fraternal, and Finn was the smallest bit softer-looking (at least in comparison to his brother's cutting face), his complexion was slightly paler and his eyes were brown. Both boys were broad-shouldered and grown, standing erect and unassuming. "Finn, Christopher…" she nodded at them.

"It's wonderful to see you again, Mrs. Bass," Chris spoke. His voice was deep and concise; it was attractive in a way that was different from Chuck's lilting sound. Every syllable rang with sincerity.

Finn contributed a nod to the greeting. "Hello, Mrs. Bass." Again, his voice was softer and sweeter.

Robert looked over at the two girls. "I know that one is Emilia, just as lovely as your mother," he smiled as he pointed at the brunette, who glanced at him for the first time. "And Leila," there was slight hesitance this time, "Senator Archibald's girl, right? Forgive me, it's been a while."

"Yes, that's me," Leila chirped.

At first, Emilia said nothing, and Leila noticed Blair visibly stiffen at her rudeness. Then, Emilia blinked and inclined her head. "I'm happy that you've returned, Mr. Alton," she murmured.

"I'm happy to be back. And I hope that you two beautiful girls will not be strangers. You were always close with Finn and Chris here," he interrupted her, quite charmed, which was amusing because Emilia hadn't really put in the effort.

"Of course," her reply was once again spoken slowly and softly. Leila didn't think that was a good sign, it was too indifferent for Emilia, who was never indifferent to anything. There was an awkward pause in the conversation, which would have normally been occupied with Blair expertly making small talk, but now she was discretely observing the non-interaction between Chris and Emilia, wondering what she could have possibly failed to see. How could something serious have emerged between two people who hadn't seen each other in three years? Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Chuck appeared over her shoulder and Robert greeted him enthusiastically.

"Bass, how have you been?" Chuck took the offered hand with a smirk.

"I heard you were back in town. Business is good, though I doubt I need to tell you that. When I saw you talking to my girls, I had to come and say hello." Chuck wrapped an arm around Blair's waist. "What brought you back to the East Coast?"

Robert shrugged. "I think maybe I'm sentimental, but I had to come back. This was where my boys grew up. And I thought it was about time I got them out of Scotland and let them finish up their schooling back here." He once again smiled at the girls. "Among friends."

At these words, Emilia squinted at Robert like she wasn't certain of what she was seeing. Then she cleared her throat and forced a smile. "Would you all excuse me?"

Without waiting for an affirmative, she backed away from the group and started up the stairs to the upper-floor. Sensing that Chuck was about to follow her, Blair clamped her hand to the arm around her waist, pinning him at her side. Mr. Alton did not seem to notice anything, but then Chris blinked, as if moving out of a trance and looked to the place Emilia had disappeared to. "I think I'll go see to her, if you don't mind." The dark-haired boy motioned towards the stairs. Robert looked at his son curiously.

"Why? I'm sure she just went to freshen up..."

"Yes," Chuck said, looking hard at Chris. "Stay." It wasn't a suggestion, and everyone standing there knew it. Blair tightened her hold on her husband warningly, but he ignored her, his gaze fixed on the teenager before him.

Chris did not look away or seem embarrassed at all. He looked pensive for a second before saying, "I'll be back in a minute." Then, he followed the path Emilia had taken just before. Blair had to pinch the inside of Chuck's arm to keep him rooted to the spot, and Leila looked shell-shocked. Nobody who valued their life simply disregarded the word of Chuck Bass, though it was hard to think of any time when Chris had ever demonstrated that he valued his life.

Even Robert and Finn looked a little wary. "I'm sure they'll be back in a few minutes," Robert said. Blair responded with a wordless murmur in the dangerous quiet, punctuating it with digging her nails into Chuck's arm.

* * *

The questions. Emilia wasn't looking forward to tonight, when her parents interrogated her for the awkward display she just presented out there. All the questions they would ask could make her head spin just thinking about them. And what was she to say? Her parents were freaking Blair and Chuck, with them pitted as one against her, she had no prayer of withholding any information. And over what?

Her head hurt, and she wondered if the champagne had finally hit her. She was in some empty room on the upper floor. There was a fireplace, untouched, and a few ornate chairs scattered about. Just a sitting room.

There was nothing to think about, so the thing that her mind kept trying to press into her thoughts invaded. It was pathetic. He deems to show his face after a year completely without contact and all he can do is stare at her... and all she can do is stare at him. She was sixteen. She was sixteen, and though she loathed admitting it, she knew nothing. But this... this was strong and frightening, and she didn't know what it meant or how powerful it was.

So she didn't hear it at first, the door opening. However, she noticed the shadow that darkened her own form and she spun around to greet it. She had half-expected him to be there anyway, but her heart still beat fiercely in her chest. "What?" she choked out. She didn't think it was vanity speaking when she noticed that his eyes looked softer when they fell on her.

He opened his mouth, and then closed it. He didn't look nervous or uncertain or any way at all, but he wasn't one for expressive facial gestures. Finally he took a breath through his nose and met her eyes. "I'm back," he said matter-of-factly.

She scoffed, some of her bravado returning. This, she could handle. "I can see that," she answered snidely. "And so?"

He was frozen, and that seemed to compel her to move. She walked to the cold fireplace and then turned to look at him. They were on opposite ends of the room now.

"How have you been?" he asked, raising his voice so she could hear him.

She shook her head, feeling warm. "Can't you do better than that?"

"What's wrong with that question?"

"It's useless. It means nothing after—"

"What?"

She stopped, the words halfway out of her mouth before she reared back and glared at him. "I really despise you, you know that? I can't believe you came up here to..." she didn't know how to finish that considering she still didn't know his purpose.

He was unruffled. "No. You don't despise me."

"What do you know?" she asked hotly. "You can't even say the right thing. You don't have anything to say. You never do."

He started coming towards her. "You mean I can't say what you want to hear."

Her expression was haughty. "To me, there's no difference." She swallowed and looked away. "Why did you come up here? What do you want?"

"To tell you..."

"No." She wasn't going to listen to him, whether it was good or bad. If she stopped this now, there would be nothing to hide and nothing to keep her up at night. She started for the door. Predictably, he grabbed her arm as she attempted to pass him.

"Don't leave, Em." His eyes were bright. She wrenched out of his grip, but didn't go for the door again.

"We don't know each other anymore. You don't get to do this." He was breaking her down without even trying. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

His face twitched, but he managed to keep it straight as he watched her. "Look, I..."

She looked at him expectantly and allowed his hand to grip her arm again. "You what?" she whispered.

He didn't answer, but his face was leaning into hers. She couldn't fight her eyelids fluttering close and her breath leaving her body in a gentle sigh. Maybe she had overestimated this. Maybe not. She almost kissed him, but a moment of clarity had her lowering her head. He didn't hesitate, but instead pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead.

She relished the sign of affection before letting out a soft groan and stepping back. "You haven't changed at all," she said mournfully, touching his cheek. He just looked at her, which was something that she was thankfully used to. No surprises. "Which is why I don't want to see you again."

"Emilia."

"No, just... go back... go back to Scotland or —or stay here and out of my way... I don't really care, just..." her eyes were sad for the second she dared to look up at him. "Just don't come near me."

With that, she turned on her heel and left the room.

He stared at the door, staying very still for a minute. Then he slowly turned to where a tiny, Waterford crystal clock was sitting on a side table. He fondled it carefully and silently for a moment, before he spun with a cry and hurled it against the wall.

His eyes caught every sparkle as it shattered.

* * *

"_I have to go." He looked up from his bed to see her standing tentatively at his doorway. He knew what she meant; it was a subject they hadn't dared touch on all this time. He glanced meaningfully at his roommate, who sighed and left the room, cursing the fact that he couldn't get any work done._

_She shifted to let his roommate past, but didn't move from the threshold. "Now?"_

_She didn't quite meet his eye. "I've been... prolonging it." She shook her head. "My parents are asking questions."_

_He nodded and stood, pushing off the bedspread. She watched his progress and slowly followed suit, stepping into the room. "What are you saying?" he asked quietly._

_She almost timidly met his gaze, before squaring her shoulders and throwing a cover of fearlessness over her expression. "What should I be saying?"_

_They unconsciously leaned into each other while they stood in the middle of the room. He was screaming in despair inside. He expected that type of response, but he couldn't give it to her that easily... or at all. He wasn't ready to be that vulnerable in front of her. "Say whatever you want," he finally responded lamely._

_Something in her eyes deadened at that moment, but he only concentrated on the fact that they were also shining with unshed tears. And she plowed on in the destructive way he had come to associate with her, "I broke up with Ethan."_

_He already knew this and so he nodded. "You were never his anyway."_

_Her eyes suddenly fastened onto his, refusing to let him up for air when they sunk into her deep brown ones. "Do you believe that people can belong to other people?" _

_He gave her a half-amused smile, but she didn't reciprocate. "You're wrong," she said with terrifying sureness._

"_Why do you think that?"_

_She watched him steadily. "I don't think most of us can afford to belong to other people. I refuse to leave myself vulnerable to that."_

_They locked gazes in a personal way, but remained unable to look away. "And what if you miss out on something big?" He threw the words out carelessly, but they were so important to him that he was almost incapable of saying it. And she swallowed markedly. _

_She opened her mouth, but nothing came out except the beginnings of something that she didn't even know if she could articulate. Then, she shut her mouth and shook her head slowly. "I can't," she whispered. And for a moment, neither knew exactly what they were talking about or saying, but that it was over. She couldn't chance it and he wouldn't say anything, and that was how it would stay._

_So, he put on a brave face and closed the gap between them. Before she could protest, he had her face in his hands in a more intimate way than he ever had and he was kissing her softly. She kissed him back fiercely, almost weeping with the knowledge that she was losing this. _

_Finally, he pulled back slightly and let her go; only claiming one of her hands in his. He squeezed it. "This was good," he acknowledged. _

_She pulled her hand away and stepped back a few paces before turning towards the door. She was practically out of the room before she looked back and tossed over her shoulder with a strained smirk, "Well, yeah." And before he could identify the forced casualness over her trembling words, she was gone. _

_He wasn't sure how long he stood in the middle of that room, but after a while his twin brother appeared at the door. The other boy only had to take one look at Chris' face before shaking his head. "Don't do this, Chris. Get her now, if you want, but don't do this." Finn's face was rife with seriousness when Chris finally looked at him._

"_No," he answered simply. " And... don't ever talk to me about this... about her, again." He said it lowly and Finn knew him enough to agree to it. He never knew when his twin might head for the nearest roof to take a gamble at the edge._


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N: Thanks to those of you who reviewed, favorited, and put the story on alert! This one will focus a little more on the adults and there will even be some fill-in-the-blanks in terms of history, not much, but some. And that will continue throughout. Hope you guys like it!

Her eyes were glued to the lights that glared through the window, passing by in psychedelic blurs. Damon was sitting next to her, completely unaffected by the tension in the car, but actually looking pleased with himself.

Chuck leaned back on the leather seat while he stared across the way at his daughter. "Now I want the story, Emilia. I did as you asked, now I expect a return on that."

They had all disappeared before the end of the gala, when his daughter had begged to go. And Chuck knew his father would not be pleased when and if he realized. Emilia looked pensively at her father, pretending to contemplate his request. "Daddy…"

Chuck sat up straighter. "No. I'm not going to take one of your excuses." She immediately dropped the act and glared at him. Why didn't he understand that this was something every girl went through and he _didn't_ need to know anything about it?

"You're being intrusive." As the words left her mouth, she quickly realized that she probably shouldn't have said it.

Blair's eyebrows shot up, having remained silently watching the entire time. "Oh, Emilia?"

Her father's eyes bore into hers with aggravated intensity. "I have every right to know exactly what my daughter is doing and what is upsetting her. And if she does not tell me everything, I will find another way. And I'm sure that she realizes that I _do_ have ways and I _will_ find out all that I need and more. Is there a need for clarification?"

Emilia looked murderous for the slightest moment, and then her eyes welled up with tears. If there was one thing Blair and Chuck had always taught her, it was to know the weakness of your opponent and exploit it when necessary. And Chuck hated to see his little girl cry. "I just... never understood... why he left..."

Damon rolled his eyes, knowing that his sister was playing their father for a fool. She was good, but she was definitely hiding something, and the waterworks were the perfect way to ensure that Chuck drop the issue. Their mother, for her part, was still looking unsure. She was not as susceptible to her daughter's tears.

"I've never known you to get quite so worked up over a boy." Blair said finally, when Chuck had been stricken guiltily into silence.

Emilia turned her large, brown eyes on her mother. "He wasn't like that. He was my friend. He didn't even say goodbye… and I hated it. It was like he never cared." She blinked and swiped at the tears on her cheeks. "Look, it doesn't even matter anymore. I don't want to talk about it."

Blair had nothing to say to that, so she sat back in the seat with a sigh. Chuck frowned and suspicion was heavy in his voice. "That's all?"

"Yes," she cried. This was the only way to get them off her back, and so she did it unapologetically. There was a strange silence after that, with Blair searching through her clutch for something just to keep her hands busy, Damon sitting gleefully in silence, and Chuck wondering how to feel about having his daughter feel friendly enough for a boy to shed tears over him. She hadn't even done so when she broke up with that absolute imbecile, Ethan.

Finally making up his mind on exactly how he felt about that, Chuck glared hard. "I'm going to take care of that—"

"No, Dad. If I find out that he suddenly had to leave town without a word, I won't speak to you."

He was halfway to dialing his phone. "You'll have to eventually."

Emilia continued to protest until Blair placed a hand over Chuck's. "Let's close the conversation for now." Seeing the glint in his wife's eye, Chuck obeyed.

* * *

"Daddy, why don't you ride with us?" Leila pleaded with her father as they strolled out of the gala at the end of the night.

Nate smiled indulgently at her. "My car's here, Leila."

"So?"

Serena winked at her daughter before joining the girl's cause. "Why not, Nate? It'll be fun," she wheedled, taking his arm. Conor scoffed quietly off to the side.

"How can I say no?" Nate mock-surrendered, and led the way to the limo. Leila would not shut up the entire ride and Julia and Serena were smiling like their mouths were stuck that way. Conor looked out the window, sullen and angry. The night had been boring and he had had to put up with Damon Bass for hours with that stupid, smug look on his face. Nate was a nice guy. Conor had to admit that, but he wasn't some substitute for Carter, no matter how desperately everyone else would like to believe that. Nate and his mother had a chance to get married years ago and they never took it. Now it was dead, and Conor wanted it to stay dead.

Finally, they dropped Nate off and were headed to their home. Leila was still practically bouncing from the joy of her father's return. Conor found that annoying too, I mean, he had barely been gone for two weeks. Try almost a year without a father...

The mood in the car remained lighthearted as Serena slung an arm around her son, trying to coax him into laughing like his sisters were... for no reason. "Where's my smiley boy?" she cooed, nuzzling the side of his face.

Conor grimaced at her toddler-years nickname for him and fought the urge to push her away. "C'mon, Mom!"

"No, you c'mon!" she rejoined, giving him her infectious smile. "You've been sulking the entire day! Look at Jules and Leila, they're happy," she gestured to the girls, who had twin grins on their faces.

"So?" Conor challenged. He wished she would stop looking at him like that, Serena was very hard to refuse no matter what age or what the request. Now his stupid sisters were giggling and he fought the urge to curve his lips upward when Serena's phone went off. Conor's anger returned when he caught Nate's name blazing across the screen.

Serena picked up. "Hey, I thought we just got rid of you," she teased. He was replying on the other end and her smile faded a little. "What? I thought you had them in your pocket... no." Serena pressed her hand over the receiver for a moment to look at her eldest daughter. "Do you have the spare key to your father's house with you?"

Leila shook her head. "She doesn't have it with her. Look, Nate, we'll come and pick you up. There isn't any sense in you waiting for us to go back and forth... you can just spend the night."

Leila smiled wider. She was the most ridiculous Daddy's girl, probably worse than Emilia. Conor was thankful Julia was never so annoying, not that there was much opportunity anymore… But the last thing he needed was Nate spending even _more_ time hanging around.

"Why are we turning around?" Conor huffed when his mother had snapped her phone shut. Serena glanced at him almost guiltily; and he knew she was trying to empathize with him as best as she could. She just wasn't any good at it.

"Nate lost the keys to his apartment—" the rest of the sentence was drowned out with an excited squeal from Leila.

"Dad's going to spend the night?" she gushed for needless confirmation. Julia leaned in too, almost as visibly excited as her older sister.

"If he wants to. I invited him so he wouldn't have to go back and forth."

The exclamations of happiness made Conor sick to his stomach. They all just wanted to play house and set up some perfect family as soon as they could. It was like the past eight years never happened... as far as Conor was concerned, he might as well not have existed... or Julia, for that matter. Neither could escape the fact of their parentage, and it angered Conor beyond all reason that Julia tried her hardest to make it so. He wanted to punch something.

"Wait. _Why_ does he need to spend the night?" he asked again, more out of irritation than anything. But his mother's next words sent a pang of recognition to his stomach.

"He can't find his keys. He says they were in his pocket all night, so he must have dropped them sometime tonight, maybe at the gala." Serena continued on, but Conor didn't quite hear her. All that registered was the 'keys' and the image of Damon's smirking face as he leaned against a pillar and played with a silver pair.

"I know where they are," he said automatically. Unfortunately, he hadn't given it much thought, or he would've known what was going to happen.

Leila raised her eyebrows. "Then where are they? Did you take them?"

"No!" They were all staring at him expectantly, and he was beginning to realize that they would never believe it if he told them the truth. But he couldn't turn back now. "Bass has them. I saw him fooling around with Nate's keys at the gala."

There was a loaded silence in the car as his sisters and mother stared at him. "...Conor," Serena began, and Conor knew that it was going to be some tactful response that clearly showed she didn't believe him. Conor balled his hands into fists as he waited for her to finish, but Leila cut across her.

"Why would Damon take the keys, Conor?"

"I don't know. To piss me off."

Leila angrily flung her hands into the air. "Why would _that_ piss you off—you know what? I don't even want to hear your explanation for that. The point is that you will do anything to stick it to Damon. Even when we know he wouldn't do that; he and Dad get along really well."

He so badly wanted to drop the issue, because he knew it made him look nothing more than a petty liar, but Bass knew that as well. And Conor unwillingly played right into his hands. "I'm sure that he thought this is exactly what would happen!" From the corner of his eye, he saw Julia shake her head sorrowfully at him. "I'll prove it if you take me to Uncle Chuck's, I'll—" That was a lie. Damon would just deny it and he would have already hidden it by now.

"We're not bothering your aunt and uncle this late at night," Serena said with finality. She was biting her lip, like she did when she was trying to keep her temper with her unruly son... her ex-husband's son for sure. "Conor, please just stop. Nate will spend the night with us and that's the way it's going to be. I'm sure he'll find his keys or have another pair made." Okay. She didn't even placate him, just jumped to the most suitable conclusion in her eyes. 'Conor was playing games; he hasn't been the same since his father left the family, he still believes that Carter will come back. Poor kid. Poor little rich kid.'

But Conor swallowed back his resentment like an immovable stone residing in the back of his throat, and nodded. "Yeah, fine," he managed thickly, disappointed in Serena as he often was. But he would take the hit; she couldn't help it, she was Serena Van der Woodsen and she took far too much at face-value.

* * *

"You didn't actually believe that doe-eyed, whimpering story, did you?" Chuck asked his wife shrewdly as they walked into their bedroom at the end of the night.

Blair rolled her eyes toward him with a modicum of long-suffering patience. "Of course not, darling. But I saw where that was headed."

Chuck closed the door and been pulling at his belt buckle. "What do you mean? I thought I was handling it rather well."

Blair laughed, a soft, tinkling sound from inside their closet. "Yes, that's why she threatened to never speak to you again." She emerged, clad in a satin nightgown the dropped to mid-thigh while pulling her curls up into a messy bun. "I suggest we do this my way now."

Chuck smirked at her appearance, and came towards her until he was looking right down at her. "You never told me what 'your way' entailed." He pulled the clasp out of her hair, so her hair tumbled down around her shoulders. "I like it better this way."

She hit his chest with a small fist and scowled while he chuckled at her, but didn't attempt to twist it up again. "Leila."

Two of Chuck's fingers halted their progress across Blair's collarbone. "Come again?"

She tilted her head to one side and pouted. "I hate it when you act obtuse, Chuck. I said, 'Leila.'"

As Blair moved away from him, Chuck raised his eyebrows with impatience. "And I'll ask again; what do you mean?"

She sat primly on the bed, well as primly as one can sit in a nightie like that, supporting her weight on her arms behind her. "We've taught Emilia a lot, Chuck. And years have only taught her to be more subtle. Plus, we (you, especially) have weaknesses that she can very easily exploit. We already know that she's hiding something, and she knows that we know, so she'll be on guard. But we don't have to get it out of her if another person is aware of the situation. Someone much easier to manipulate, or someone less careful with evidence."

Chuck's eyes lit with brilliant recognition. "Leila."

"The best friend always knows," Blair reminded with a mischievous curve of her lips. "And at the gala, I realized that Leila knew what was going on. She was jumpy most of the night."

"Impressive, Mrs. Bass. But, tell me, when did you find time to fit all of that detective work into your night?"

"Oh, you know," she winked, "here and there."

"And you think it has something to do with Christopher Alton?"

"Oh I know it does. And that's what we're going to figure out, Chuck. If we're careful enough, Leila will remain true to her Archibald-Van der Woodsen roots, and fail to suspect a thing."

Chuck gave her a lascivious wink. "Taking advantage of your niece, Blair? Just when I thought I knew your limits, you surprise even me."

Blair glared at him. "Like I would ever do anything to hurt Leila! But for future reference, I will step on anyone that can cause either of my children potential harm."

Chuck smiled at the last and came closer. "You are... entirely too lovely."

"It's true," she sighed with satisfaction, looking at him through half-lidded eyes as he stalked towards her.

"And now that that's settled... We have an arrangement from earlier tonight."

She arched an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Don't we always?" He crawled over to her with a smirk.

Blair let out a soft breath as he buried his face in the crook of her neck and trailed kisses down to her shoulder. "Well, that was the point of marrying you," she teased as her fingers buried themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck. He pulled her further into him, holding her tightly as he kissed her. After a few heated seconds, Blair moaned and tried to talk through his lips. "I... have to ask... you something..."

Chuck made a noise of impatience, but gave her room to talk. "What do you want?"

The smile on her already-swollen lips insinuated something. "Just to know what your thoughts are on a Nate-Serena reunion..."

Chuck raised his eyebrows. "Were you not raking our son over the coals just this morning for daring to speculate that very thing?"

She shrugged. "_He_ should not be involved whatsoever. But I do think that he may have a point... And at the gala they were so..."

Chuck rubbed his face, clearly annoyed at her cock-blocking, which he knew she was enjoying. Always such a tease. "Can we talk about this some other time?" Then he closed in on her again and growled. "And what did I tell you about talking about Nate in this room?" He sounded slightly scandalized, as if she had abused something sacred. Blair rolled her eyes and giggled.

"It's been years, Chuck. We've been over this before, and I'm sorry, but I can't undo having sex with Nate... after Cotillion... twenty years ago..." Her tone got more bitchy and incredulous as she spoke, like she was suggesting he was actually being unreasonable about this! Then she smirked and he knew that she was looking for a rise out of him with her next words. "But I can and will have lunch with him this week. He already agreed to go to that private little—"

She only had enough time to squeal when he jumped on top of her on their bed and kissed her again, pushing his tongue into her mouth with punishing force. Already overpowered, she did the same with equal fervor, searching for his distinct and heady taste. He finally unattached his mouth from hers and laid over her, supporting his weight on his elbows so he wouldn't crush her. Her dark, lustful eyes glittered like round diamonds when she lifted her leg slightly from under him so the smooth satin on her thighs would ride up.

"What did I tell you?" he said menacingly.

She looked up at him, pretending to consider it before nipping at his lip playfully. "I can't... recall... something about Nate..." He grinded his hips into hers so she trailed off with a gasp.

He smirked at her breathless reaction. "If you're going to be a mood-killer, then don't talk at all, sweetheart." His hands trailed down to her thighs and her heartbeat quickened. She tried to veil her loss of control with a challenging stare.

"Fine."

Chuck stopped his ministrations to look at her with slight confusion. She was more than happy to answer his questioning look by leaning up and whispering hotly in his ear. "I won't talk then, baby, not a sound. You'll have to work for it."

His expression was one of clear confidence when his head dipped again. "With pleasure."

* * *

Nate was surprised when Leila went straight upstairs when they reached the Van der Woodsen penthouse. She promised to talk to her father in the morning after mumbling something about homework. Conor and Julia follow shortly after the boy tore his coat off and wordlessly climb the stairs, his sister trailing him with a pained expression.

Serena watched them go and then looked at her guest. "Looks like it will be an early night."

Nate dimly realized that he was alone with the blond beauty, and rejoined. "Doesn't have to be... what do you have?" He couldn't remember the last time that they had been alone together, but he could always count on the fact that Serena would have a drink with him.

Serena gave him a conspiratorial smile. "I was wondering when you were going to drop the 'Senator Archibald' thing." Without waiting for a reply, she left and returned soon after with a bottle of vodka.

Nate raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were going for something a little less potent."

Serena didn't quite look him in the eye. "The first thing I found was some champagne, but I figured this was safer for us."

It took Nate a few seconds to register the comment, but when he did, he was left speechless with surprise that she would mention their little forays into the world of drunken sex. She never really wanted to discuss it, but he hadn't been totally alone with her since before Carter, so perhaps she had become bolder with her "mistakes."

Nate shifted in his seat while Serena poured a small amount into two glasses and felt the immediate need to make a joke about it. "Yeah, but we're not at a wedding. Isn't that another requirement?"

Serena giggled. "I know _I_ don't need a wedding. It's been a while." Nate laughed with her in relief; this was classic Serena, someone he could be unafraid to interact with. "It's a shame, because it's the cheap stuff. Obviously, I've had it for a while, since Blair and Chuck won't have anything but the finest."

Nate winked as he downed his share. "Then I guess you have no choice but to share it with me."

Serena shook her head teasingly. "I'd be better off letting Leila steal it out of the house." It was a joke, but it bothered Nate just the same.

"Wasn't that bad, was it?" he asked with the pretense of lightness as she refilled their glasses.

She looked up at him, possibly detecting that hint of something else, and gave him a half-smile. "No."

_They had stumbled into Nate's apartment in a twist of limbs and blond hair. Serena collapsed on the nearest piece of plush furniture, laughing immoderately. She watched Nate stand at the door and fumble clumsily with the doorknob and her laughing died down to chuckles._

_"What are you doing, Natie?"_

_His head turned lazily in her direction, his eyes fluttering. "I'm locking the door. We have to keep the police out! Blair said!"_

_Serena collapsed into giggles again as she tried to undo the straps of her shoes. "Blair didn't say that! She said... we were... drunk." She hiccupped as she watched Nate. "She worries too much."_

_"Yes, and she made us promise NOT to get arrested. We promised, remember?"_

_"And the police are coming?"_

_"Well..." Nate scratched his head as he unsteadily walked towards her. "I don't know... maybe..."_

_"But Blair's married! How will she find out if the police come?" Nate watched two heels fly in different directions and clatter against the wall while he tried to figure out why being married meant that Blair couldn't know about the police._

_He shook his head as he went to sit on the arm of his leather chair and missed entirely, falling to the ground with a muffled groan. "I didn't think of that…" he said dazedly as Serena pointed and laughed like a little girl. "Blair's married…" The thought didn't sober him up, but made him feel a bit more maudlin._

_"Chuck too," Serena sighed, throwing her long, shapely legs over the arm of the chair, not particularly caring that her skirt was slipping up. But Nate was frowning at the floor and didn't notice just then._

_"Blair and Chuck are married."_

_"Yup, I was the maid of honor." Serena hiccupped again. "I'm thirsty, Natie."_

_"That's weird."_

_"What? I can't help it!"_

_"No, I mean about Blair... and Chuck."_

_Serena snorted loudly and doubled over with laughter. "No, it's not! Blair and Chuck are… Blair and Chuck! They have to be married!"_

_Nate looked up at her and Serena was strongly reminded of a kicked puppy dog, so she slipped off the chair and hugged him tight. "Why are you sad about that?"_

_"I'm not. 'S just that it was weird when I saw her come down the aisle and she wasn't there for me. It's not how I imagined it."_

_Serena pulled back, wide-eyed. "Do you like Blair?"_

_Nate nodded, but then quickly backtracked when a look of horror crossed the blonde's countenance. "I don't like-like her. I just thought when we were young and stuff, that I would marry her. I didn't even like it, but I thought it would happen. And it didn't, and that's crazy. You know, S?"_

_Serena flung her arms back around him and his vision was clouded by her golden hair. "Pobrecito," she slurred. He eagerly accepted her hug, but after a few moments she withdrew again, her eyes bright. "I know what will make you happy! Let's get a drink!"_

_"I like that idea," he said, giving her a Cheshire cat smile. She didn't need any more encouragement as she took his hand and yanked him into the kitchen._

_She danced, barefoot, to his refrigerator. "Look what Blair let me have," she cried, holding out the expensive bottle of champagne. "I stuck this in here before the bachelor party 'cause Blair decided she didn't want it served at the wedding."_

_Nate blinked blearily at the bottle and shrugged. "I didn't see that before..."_

_Serena laughed, only pausing to hiccup. "Blair said that's what would happen." Then she frowned in concentration. "Blair talks a lot, doesn't she? Sometimes I think she knows everything." He felt her shove the champagne into his hands and he automatically (with surprising expeditiousness for someone in his condition) popped the cork. Serena clapped with glee as foam overtook the top and ran down, soaking Nate hands. He found himself laughing at the beautiful blond as she wrenched it from his grip and took a long swig._

_"Save some for me!" he demanded when she hadn't parted the bottle from her lips._

_With a smirk that reminded him eerily of Chuck, Serena reached over and tipped the bottle over Nate's waiting mouth. She probably managed to get a quarter of it into his mouth while the rest spilled all over the floor and counter. "Oops," Serena pressed a hand over her mouth and giggled while Nate licked his lips good-naturedly._

_"You know what, Serena? I think I have an idea!" Serena nodded eagerly and waited for him to tell her. But Nate had shoved his elbows onto the slippery countertop and slipped in the mess._

_"Ow."_

_Serena shook his arm. "Tell me!"_

_"We should get married too."_

_Her smile faded a little and she tilted her head to the side. "To each other?"_

_"If you want or somebody else... like Dan or somebody... but just not Carter...or Rufus."_

_"Rufus!" Serena squealed, covering her eyes. "Ew!"_

_Nate nodded. "That's what I mean. And I could marry Vanessa maybe… but not Blair."_

_"Definitely not Blair. I think Chuckles would be mad," Serena said earnestly._

_His confused mind was swimming with Blair… and therefore Serena as well. He could never think about his relationship with Blair without having his mind invaded by her golden best friend. He craved Serena for her freedom. He was meant to join Blair in the bond of matrimony and Chuck and Serena were supposed to remain uncaged and wild forever. He was meant to be bound, but that wasn't what he wanted, so how could it possibly be meant to be? His head hurt as he filled his stomach with more champagne._

_Blair was beautiful and Serena was BEAUTIFUL; that's all he could think of as Serena rested her head against his shoulder and guzzled down half the bottle. Blair was small and warm and he could wrap his arms around her and hold her like a favorite stuffed animal, but he had to be careful or she would bite. But Serena… she sat atop something higher than he could reach and shined down on him until he could feel the heat through to his fingertips and he wanted to run and laugh and be free. Like her._

_"Serena…" he said quietly. He had been sleepy before, but suddenly he felt very awake._

_She beamed up at him. "Natie..."_

_"I don't think I'm ready to get married." Her eyes softened and cleared to the point that he wondered in his dim mind if she was even drunk anymore._

_"Me neither." And that was true. He wanted her to sit high up and shine on him. If she got married, she couldn't do that anymore._

_"But if I did, I'd think about you."_

_She was leaning into him, so he could smell the alcohol on her breath and was somehow entranced by it. Her hand cradled his jaw. "Nate Archibald...I really love you. Almost as much as Blair, and a little more than Chuck." Then she moved in until her smooth, perfect face was against his and she was kissing him with abandon. He was grasping at her like a life preserver and ironically, he was falling down, down until his back hit the tile. She was there, straddling him with her ethereal beauty and her freedom every step of the way._

_Little did he know, he took away the freedom of her youth that very night._


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Own the kids, nothing else.

A/N: Yes, I'm sure this seemed like an abandoned fic, but I'm toying with it again…so there! The truth is, I miss amazing Chuck and Blair from Seasons 1 and 2, getting back to their roots. Not to mention good ol' Bart, who is tons better than Rufus! I know there isn't much of a following for this story, but I want to continue it because I have plans for this.

Anyway, this is the beginning of the actual plot, thought I'm sure you aren't going to have much of an idea how that is, but I'd be happy to field some guesses :). It's a little short, but there was a natural break, so I went with it. Drop a review if you feel like it, and enjoy!

Sunday brunch. In Bart Bass' world, it was an Upper East Side family tradition that was a non-negotiable obligation. Chuck groaned as he sat up in bed and looked blearily at the clock. Rubbing his eyes, he turned to look at the smooth expanse of his wife's bare back as she slept soundly. "Blair…" he whispered. The only response he was able to garner was a slight movement and a moan.

"Blair, sweetheart," he murmured. He traced a finger down the curve of her spine and she flinched away; he wasn't sure whether it was reactionary or by design.

With another glance at the clock, Chuck sighed in resignation and leaned over her. "Feel like a little…"

"No." So, she was awake. He smirked, and as if she sensed his smarmy look, she swatted at his head. "Back off, Bass, I'm tired."

"If you wanted me to back off, then you shouldn't have signed the pre-nup, my darling wife. Now, if we don't show at this ridiculously time-honored brunch, my father may just lose it and fire me."

Blair snorted softly and turned over on her back so she could look at him. "And they say _I'm_ melodramatic. Bart would never fire you."

"Ahh, I think you are projecting his affection for _you_ onto me." Blair smirked.

"Can you blame him? He's just relieved that you found another life path opposed to being a degenerate for the rest of your existence."

He raised an eyebrow. "Anyone could consider that an impressive feat." A small laugh escaped Blair's mouth as he traced her jaw line. Chuck looked up and frowned. "You know, I don't think I ever seen him more disappointed in me than when he found out I screwed up with you the first time."

He fell on his back in surprise when Blair unceremoniously shoved him away. "Rules. Tuscany is no more acceptable to talk about in this room than Nate is."

At her explanation, Chuck stared at her for a long while. "Since when?"

"I didn't think I would have to tell you that," she responded shortly. "It's under the heading of 'unspoken laws broken on pain of death or castration.'" To be honest, he should have known better than to mention Tuscany, since it still riled her up and she had never been much of a morning person.

Chuck climbed to his knees on the bed and scooped her up in his arms in one motion. Blair gasped as the silken sheet fell from her body and pooled on the floor. "What are you doing?" she demanded with a laugh as he shifted her with a jolt and started towards the closet.

"Ending this potentially dangerous conversation and getting you up for brunch." He deposited her gently on the floor and stalked into the closet.

"Don't you even—" she began, but in the span of fifteen seconds, he reappeared with the dress he wanted her to wear.

"Put it on," he ordered. "Please," he added after he saw the look on her face.

"Only because I happened to like what you picked," she said smugly. She moved to put the dress on, but glanced to the side when she felt her husband's eyes still trained to her form. "Do you mind?" She really didn't care if he watched, but she always pretended to be annoyed anyway.

Chuck shrugged. "No." He caught her shadow of a smile when she rolled her eyes and began to dress. After a moment, he spoke again. "But I would like to know what you intend to do to get little Leila to crack under pressure."

Blair gave him her back so he would zip her up, which he did deftly and wordlessly.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked as she marched past him to her bureau.

Chuck began donning a suit. "This is your plan, B. I leave the details to you."

His wife turned and placed her hands delicately on her hips. "And if I was asking?"

"From experience with my lovely, but woefully clueless sister, I would say the answer is to ply her with alcohol. Blondes always talk in a state of inebriation, and between Nathaniel and sis, we have genetics on our side as well."

Blair scoffed as she clasped a bracelet around her wrist. "I'm not going to get my under-aged goddaughter _drunk_ during a _family brunch_, Chuck."

"I didn't say you were going to like my suggestion," he drawled. "However, I don't think we've ever dealt with someone that needed to be handled so... delicately. This is why I prefer to leave you to deal with troublesome loved ones."

"You forget, darling, that genetics are on our side either way. Incapacitated or not, she's still Serena and Nate's child. It was probably more difficult to crack Damon when he was five and broke my grandmother's antique vase."

Chuck winced at the memory of the hysterics that ensued afterwards, including a screeching Eleanor. "As much as I hate to point this out, we soon discovered that _that_ whole fiasco had been carefully constructed. So I dare say he was prepared when we questioned him."

"Don't say that," Blair whined. "I still remember when I realized that it was all part of a master plan to get that Tiffany lamp out of his bedroom when we had an available place for it in the sitting room. I was horrified."

"He didn't get his way," Chuck pointed out. "I was actually surprised when you held so firm on the issue."

"It didn't go with the décor," she said pointedly. "And eventually, it was moved and he stopped calling me 'evil Mommy'. But I digress. The point is that I will be amazed if we don't have her talking within the hour. Alcohol or not." They finished dressing in relative silence, taking an inordinate amount of time, as per usual. Finally, Blair took one more look in the mirror and turned to Chuck so she could straighten the lapels of his jacket. "Alright, I'm going to see if Emilia is wearing something appropriate for brunch. Since we both know that Damon has been awake for hours, I'd appreciate it if you would tear him away from those video games." She patted his shoulder and strode off towards the door.

Chuck couldn't help calling after her. "Sure thing, Evil Mommy." Her response was a glare thrown over her shoulder.

Blair went down the hall to her daughter's bedroom and knocked on the door. It was slightly ajar, so the force of her light tap pushed it open further to reveal Emilia sitting on her bed, her gaze turned toward the door. Something flitted across the girl's face, but as if sensing her mother's scrutiny, she dropped her eyes and pivoted back around. "I'll be straight with you, M. If the list isn't composed the way I want it by Monday, considered yourself demoted to something more trite, like yogurt-fetching and checking-in late library books. Something more within your range of ability…"

Blair didn't know whether to be slightly proud at her daughter's obvious natural aptitude for queenship or dutifully appalled with the admittedly juvenile way Constance still operated. She decided for the former, since the latter is something that went away with time… to an extent.

"…don't call me unless you have something to say that won't nauseate me," she said sharply, snapping her phone shut. "Yes, Mother?" She spoke it all in one breath, with a business-like tone that suggested that she was not going to play, or cave to whatever manipulation her mother might have in store for her.

Blair made her way smoothly to the bed, tucking a dark curl behind Emilia's ear as she sat next to her. "I see that whatever this is, it isn't interfering with your… commanding ways."

Emilia sighed softly and surprisingly her head found its way onto her mother's shoulder. "What is this, Mom?"

Blair shook her head and thought of how she wished her daughter really _understood_ that she wasn't alone and that if she… well, Blair had been no better at that age. In fact, she had been far worse. "Maybe if you just explained the situation… to me."

Blair felt Emilia shake her head slowly from side to side, but refused to be put off. "Emilia… even if it… you know that if you're having a problem with anyone, that your father and I can take care of it." She turned her body in slightly, so she could face her daughter. "Do you know how much you're worrying me? You've been acting strange. You've always held your own at Constance, especially now and there was nothing going on at home. So, I was all out of guesses, and I could only suspect that this had something to do with a boy—" Emilia cut across her with a groan, but Blair spoke over her. "And I'm beginning to think more and more that this behavior has everything to do with a boy, namely Christopher Alton."

"Mom…"

"But what I don't understand is that you were once friends, and that's fine… but there's more to it, isn't there? There has to be."

Her daughter's dark head shot up in grudging impatience. "Mom, don't you think I would tell you if it was truly _that_ serious? Have you forgotten how dramatic I am? You only tell me about it all the time!"

"Wow. You really don't want me to know if you go about deflecting by simultaneously insulting yourself and agreeing with me, two things you usually can't stomach doing." Blair cupped her cheek and smirked. "You forget that I taught you all these tactics and I know desperation when I see it."

"I'm _not_ desperate!"

"Do you think I'm going to wait for you to tell me what's going on if you don't do so soon? You mean too much to me for me to do things on your timetable, Emilia." Blair told her softly. She stood from the bed and looked down at her daughter gently. "We have brunch in the hour."

Emilia rolled her eyes. "Of course."

####################################################################

"Where's Grandma?" Emilia asked immediately after they had crossed the threshold to Lily and Bart's apartment. Bart was lounging in his chair with the newspaper as they walked in and a maid took their coats.

"She'll be down shortly, she is looking over some legal things in her office," Bart supplied.

"Oh," she said by way of a thank-you to her grandfather. Then, after about three seconds of seemingly-innocent meandering, Emilia crept out of the room. Her parents watched, knowing she was trying to distance herself from them as much as possible. Bart looked up in slight surprise, as Emilia usually was social and polite. Of course, Bart didn't have the time or the interest to truly wonder if his granddaughter was upset; teenage girls were very emotional. His gaze then flitted to his grandson, who was absorbed in his phone as he took a seat on the couch. Kids were entirely too wrapped up in technology. Not that this was a terrible thing, but in Bart's time, being constantly plugged-in was prohibited when with company (of course, there wasn't too much to plug-in at that point).

Bart rose from his place and strode over to his son and daughter-in-law, who were whispering furtively to each other. "Blair, Charles."

The two moved away from each other slightly and Blair smiled charmingly at her father-in-law, entirely unabashed. "Good morning, Bart."

Bart turned to his son as he straightened one of his sleeves. "Are you ready to close that deal in Tokyo?" he asked. Blair gave Chuck a look.

"Tokyo?"

Chuck looked at his wife carefully. "Yes, I'm a—I'm going to close a deal there at the end of the month for Dad."

Blair nodded slowly, keeping her eyes on his. "So, next week?"

"Yes, B, next week," Chuck said, enunciating her one-letter nickname. He knew that Blair would be pissed that he hadn't told her until now and she had to hear it from his father. And he was aware that Bart was still standing there, probably not interested in hearing a domestic dispute. "I forgot about it."

"Well let's hope you don't _forget_ again," Bart put in, looking from Chuck to Blair and back to Chuck. "I want this deal, son."

Blair surreptitiously rolled her eyes and Chuck inclined his head. "And I will get it for you," he answered curtly. Hoping to change the subject, he looked about the room. "Now where is Sister Serena? Prompt as usual?"

Bart merely raised his eyebrows, indicating that while he didn't approve of Serena's inability to keep a schedule, but for Lily's sake he would raise issue with it.

Chuck and Blair were consistently on time. But Serena usually breezed in whenever she decided. Surprisingly, though, Serena did not come careening excitably through the doors twenty minutes late, but only five minutes after the established time with Nate and her children in tow.

"Serena!" Blair said brightly, before her eyes swiveled to Nate with slight confusion on her face. "Nate, what are you doing here?"

Nate laughed at Blair before bending to kiss her cheek. "Thanks, I didn't think you'd be so happy to see me, Blair," he said with good-natured sarcasm.

Both Serena and Nate expected the speculative looks that Blair and Chuck were sending them, even Bart was frowning slightly. So Nate offered up an explanation.

"The key to my apartment went missing last night, so… S said that I could stay with her and the kids until I found my old one or got another made."

Conor snorted audibly and he strode past Chuck, Blair, and Bart straight over to where Damon was slouched on the couch, Julia following after him.

"Maybe you could wait another day to get a key made," Leila suggested happily from behind. "You know, just in case the old one is around somewhere."

Nate chuckled. "We'll see, kiddo."

"Yes," Blair added with amusement, from the way things looked right now, her and Chuck wouldn't even have to do the legwork. Nate and Serena might just drift back to each other. Though that might have something to do with one young boy that was explicitly told to stay out of it. She would have to find out later. "You should give it another day. I'm sure that S's generous spirit would be more than willing to accommodate you."

Serena shook her head at her best friend as she skipped over to her, linking their arms. "Oh B, what are you up to?" she said laughingly as she dragged Blair into the sitting room, leaving the men alone.

Conor dropped next to Damon on the couch and Damon didn't even look up. "You should try sitting with a little more grace, Baizen. It might help you break from that heavy-handed pattern of yours…"

"Heavy-handed?" Conor sneered. "Talk to me when you're not quite so obvious about trying to set my mother up with Nate. The key was elementary."

Damon didn't bat an eyelash, but he did smile slightly as he pocketed his phone. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Conor. But I think you should probably take your anger out on a more suitable outlet, you're looking a tad bit obsessive."

Julia sighed as she sat across from them on the coffee table. "Damon's right, Conor. You can't blame him for everything you think goes wrong. Just drop it already! The key probably fell out of his pocket!"

When Conor merely glared at his sister, Damon smirked. "Aw, Jules, don't even bother. Common sense doesn't compute with him."

At his cousin's words, Conor rounded on him. "I'll prove you took the key, Damon."

Julia groaned. "Conor…"

"No, listen! I'll prove you took that key. You're getting way too arrogant, Bass, and you're going to slip up at some point."

Damon rolled his eyes. "Let's say for argument's sake that I _did_ take the stupid key. What do you think our parents would do about it? What's the big deal anyway, and what stake do I have in this? I wouldn't waste my time, quite frankly."

"I honestly have no freaking idea why you would steal the key, except to make my life hell." Conor shot back, ignoring Damon's snickering. "But I know you did it."

Damon sighed. "Okay, Conor. Go ahead and prove it."

Blair managed to corner Leila when she told Serena that she needed to use the bathroom. She knew that Leila would be looking for Emilia and planned to head her off on the stairs. "Leila, darling. Is everyone sitting to breakfast already?"

Leila immediately got an apprehensive look on her face as her aunt approached her. "No ...not yet. I was just looking for Emilia."

"Of course you were." Blair took the girl's arm and led her a little ways from the staircase. "That's what I was meaning to talk to you about."

Leila's eyes widened and she stopped in her tracks. "Aunt Blair, please…"

Blair looked gently at her. "No, I'm begging _you_. I'm worried about my daughter and I know that you know more about this situation with the Alton boy than you're admitting."

Leila shook her head furiously. "No, I really don't! Emilia hasn't told me anything."

"But there is something going on?" Blair ventured. Leila had just as good as admitted it just now.

Her niece slumped her shoulders. "I don't know."

Blair could see that Leila didn't truly know very much, so she decided to take a shot in the dark, knowing that if Leila really didn't know anything, she wouldn't know whether the information was true or not. "Leila, I know that Emilia met with Christopher after he left here."

Bingo! Leila looked surprised. "Well it wasn't really like _that_, Aunt Blair." She giggled nervously. "They just ran into each other in Scotland...only for a second."

Blair tried to keep her face blank when Leila confirmed that her shot in the dark was accurate. "Sweetheart, I highly doubt that it was for only a sec—"

Blair was interrupted when footsteps echoed in the hallway and Nate appeared. "Hey, you two, we're about to sit down. I'll grab Lily and Emilia."

Blair smiled and put her hand around Leila's shoulders. "We'll see you in there." Once Nate had disappeared up the stairs, Blair leaned in. "We aren't done discussing this, Leila. I want to get to the bottom of this before my daughter does something insensible, if you know what I mean." Blair was certainly an expert of being insensible when she felt out-of-control… and this boy was the most uncontrolled thing she had witnessed on the Upper East Side in a long time.

Emilia just sat there and watched as her grandmother went through her papers quietly, lost in thought. When she had first entered the room, Lily had sensed something was wrong and pressed her for information, but when her granddaughter had remained tight-lipped, she smartly backed off, knowing that Emilia would talk about it when she was ready.

Unfortunately, it never got to that, because Nate appeared at the door after a few minutes, tapping lightly on the wood and poking his head in. "I hope you two aren't in the middle of anything. Brunch is ready."

Emilia smiled. "Uncle Nate, what are you doing here?" Lily nodded to designate that she had been wondering the same thing.

"I decided to join Serena and the kids. I spent the night because I lost the key to my apartment last night."

"Really?" Emilia said slyly.

"Well, you know you're always welcome here, Nate." Lily said kindly. "And I'm quite finished up here, so I think we can head down."

Jokingly, Nate offered his arm to both women, and as she laughed, Emilia thought that family really was her protective bubble. Loving them tended to calm her. All she needed to do was throw her overly-perceptive parents off the scent…

She knew it wouldn't be possible without help.

"Excuse me for a minute, will you? I need to go to the bathroom."

##################################################################################

"Look, I understand that you think you need to do this, but I'm telling you that this is a mistake!" Christopher Alton was pressing the phone so hard to his ear that he had lost feeling along his jaw. "Once you begin this, that's it."

There was a moment of silence and the young man's nostrils flared at the other speaker's words. "Why do you think I'm back here?" his voice had dropped so low that Finn had to lean in to catch the words. "I knew you'd think that _she_ would be your solution, right? But I don't want you to touch her, and if I find out—"

Chris's eyes grew impossibly darker. "Not her. Not any of them. They aren't your problem, and you know that. Don't push Bart Bass, or Chuck Bass for that matter. And don't push me."

There was a definitive click and then Christopher's heavy, desperate breathing. A bewildered Finn moved out of the shadows. "What the hell was that, Chris?"

His brother couldn't even mask the wild-eyed look on his face, but he certainly didn't take kindly to the interruption. "Don't mention this," he snarled. "I don't care what you heard, but forget it."

Finn was surprised by his brother's ferocity. He had no idea what he had just heard, but it sounded like really bad news. "What are you into?"

Chris was more emotional than Finn had ever seen him. He kept running his hand through his dark hair and his Roman features were tighter than ever. "I'm not into anything. I'm trying to prevent something before it gets out of control."

Finn fell against the threshold, watching his brother walk slowly around the room. "What do the Basses have to do with it, Chris? Is it Emilia again?"

"No!" Chris snarled. "Keep your head out of it, Finn."

"You have to leave her alone, you know." He rolled his eyes as he stared at his brother. "You're the one that wanted to come back here, and if it was just to fuck around with Emilia Bass, we'll be out of here before you can seal the deal, I guarantee it."

"It's not me that needs to leave things alone." Chris' glance was dark enough to drown in. "And if you don't stay out of it, I can't help. I need to concentrate."

They were interrupted by the slight vibration of Finn's phone. He was more than a little surprised at the number, but he wasn't going to let Chris see that. "I'll be back in a minute. Then we'll talk about the shit you're into."

He paced out of the room and down the hall, accepting the call. "Emilia? Are you alright? I didn't expect you to call."

"I know, I'm sorry," she replied. The little Upper East Side princess was talking quickly and breathlessly. "Don't tell your brother, but I want to meet with you tomorrow, alright?"

Finn hesitated. "…sure…what about?"

Emilia sighed. "I'll tell you when I see you, won't I? In the meantime, keep it to yourself, please. I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important."

"I'm not going to tell Chris," Finn soothed. "I'll be there."

"Palace bar at 2." Following those words was a cut of the line, typical Emilia Bass.


End file.
